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HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY

FROM THE LIBRARY OF

GEORGE RICHARD BUNN

SHAKESPEARE'S

COMEDY OF THE

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Edited, with Notes,

WILLIAM J. ROLFE, LittD.,

FORMERLY HBAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

IVITH ENGRAVINGS.

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

FRANKLIN SQUARE.

KASVARO COLLEGE LIBRART

FROM THE LIBRARY or

CEORGE RiCKARO eUNV

ENGLISH

CLASSICS.

Edited by WM. J. ROLFE, Litt. D.

Illustrated. i6mo, Cloth, 56 cents per

volume : Paper, 40 cents per volume.

Shakksfkare's Works.

The Merchant of Venice.

Richard III.

Othello.

Henry VIII.

Julius Caesar.

King Lear.

A Midsummer-Night's Dream.

The Taming of the Shrew.

Macbeth.

All 's Well that Ends Well.

Hamlet.

Coriolanus.

Much Ado about Nothing.

Ihe Comedy of Enors.

Romeo and Juliet.

Cymbeline.

As You Like It.

Antony and Cleopatra.

The Tempest.

Measure for Measure.

Twelfth Night.

Merry Wives of Windsor,
Love s Labour 's Lost.

The Winter's Tale.

King John.

Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Richard II.

Timon of Athens.

Henry IV. Part I.

Troilus and Cressida.

Henry IV. Part II.

Pericles, Prince of Tyre.

Henry V.

The Two Noble Kinsmen.

Henry VI. Part I.

Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, etc

Henry VI Part II.

Sonnets.

Henry VI. Part III.

Titus Andronicus. i

Goldsmith's Select Poems. Browning's Select Poems.

Gray's Select Porms. Browning's Select Dramas.

Minor Poems of John Milton. Macaulav's Lavs of Ancient Rome

Wordsworth's Select Poems.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

TAe above works are for sale by all booksellers, or they will be sent by
Harper & Brothers to any add'ess on receipt of price as quoted. If
ordered sent by mail, \o per cetU. should be added to the Price to cotier cost
of postage.

CONTENTS.

FAGB

Introduction to the Two Gentlemen of Verona 9

I. The History of the Play 9

II. The Sources of the Plot 10

IIL Critical Comments on the Play. 11

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 41

Act L 43

11 56

ni 77

« IV. 92

" V 108

Notes. 119

• •• '

>«-v.-

INTRODUCTION

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY.

Tite Two Gentlemen of Verona first appeared in the folio of
1623, where it occupies pages 20-38 in the division of "Com-
edies." The earliest reference to it that has been discovered

lo INTRODUCTION.

is in Meres's list of 1598 (see C. of E. p. loi), in which it is the
first of the six comedies mentioned. Tiiere can be no doubt
that it was one of the earliest of the plays. Malone at first
dated it in 1595, but afterwards in 1591, which cannot be far
from the truth. Collier, White, and Delias are disposed to
place it even earlier. Furnivall makes it 1591-2 (cf. A. Y.L.
p. 25), immediately after the Midsummer -Night^s Dream,
Dowden is doubtful whether it preceded or followed that
play, but inclines to the former view. Fleay, in his Manual
(p. 28), assigns the first two acts to 1593, the rest to 1595;
in his more recent Introduction to Shakespearian Study
(p. 21), he dates it "circa 1595."*

The play is well printed in the folio, and the textual diffi-
culties are comparatively few.

II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT.

Some of the incidents in the play are identical with those
in the Story of the Shepherdess Felismena in the Diana enamo-
rada of Jorge de Montemayor, a Portuguese poet and novel-
ist (though this romance was written in Spanish), who was
born in 1520. The Diana was translated by Bartholomew
Yong (or Young) as early as 1583, though his version was
not printed until 1598. The tale appears to have been dram-
atized in 1584, when a play called the History of Felix and
Fhilomena was acted at Greenwich. Shakespeare is also
supposed to have borrowed incidents or expressions from
Bandello's novel of Apollonius and Sylla, which was trans-
lated in 1 58 1, and from Sidney's Arcadia. He was, however,
but slightly indebted to any of these sources, and some of
the coincidences that have been pointed out are probably
accidental.

* In his Chronicle History of Shakespeare^ published in 1886, Fleay
says (p. 188) : "I believe . . . that the play was produced in 1591, with
work by a second hand in it, which was cut out and replaced by Shake-
speare's own in 1595." For an interesting discussion of Fleay's first
opinion, see Traits, of New Shaks. Sac. for 1874. p. 319 fol.

TPVO GENTLEMEN OF ^VERONA. 1 1

III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY.
From Knighfs ^^ Pictorial Shakspere^ *

" Shakspere," says Malone, " is fond of alluding to events
occurring at the time when he wrote;" and Johnson ob-
serves that many passages in his works evidently show that
"he often took advantage of the facts then recent, and the
passions then in motion." This was a part of the method
of Shakspere, by which he fixed the attention of his audi-
ence. The Nurse in Romeo and Juliet says, " It is now \
since the earthquake eleven years." Dame Quickly, in the
Merry Wwes of Windsor^ talks of her " knights, and lords,
and gentlemen, with their coaches, I warrant you, coach af-
ter coach." Coaches came into general use about 1605.
"Banks's horse," which was exhibited in London in 1589, is
mentioned in Lov^s Labour V Lost, These, amongst many
other instances which we shall have occasion to notice, are
not to be regarded as determining the period of the dramatic
action; and, indeed, they are, in many cases, decided anach-
ronisms. In the Two Gentlemen of Verona^ there are sev-
eral very curious and interesting passages which have dis-
tinct reference to the times of Elizabeth, and which, if Milan
had then been under a separate ducal government, would \^
have warranted us in placing the action of this play about ^
half a century later than we have done. As it is, the pas-
sages are remarkable examples of Shakspere's close atten-
tion to " facts then recent ;" and they show us that the spirit
of enterprise, and the intellectual activity which distinguished
the period when he first began to write for the stage, found
a reflection in the allusions of this accurate observer. , . .

In the scene between Antonio and Panthino, where the ^
father is recommended to " put forth " his son " to seek pre-^^
ferment," we have a brief but most Accurate recapitulation

* Vol. i. of Comedies^ p. ii fol. and p. 68 fol. (by permission).

1 2 I-NTROD UC TION.

of the stirring objects that called forth the energies of the
master-spirits of the court of Elizabeth:

** Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there ;
Some, to discover islands far away;
Some, to the studious universities."

Here, in three lines, we have a recital of the great principles
that, either separately, or more frequently in combination,
gave their impulses to the ambition of an Essex, a Sidney, a
Raleigh, and a Drake : War, still conducted in a chivalrous
spirit, though with especial reference to the "preferment " of
the soldier; Discovery, impelled by the rapid development
of the commercial resources of the nation, and carried on in
a temper of enthusiasm which was prompted by extraordi-
nary success and extravagant hope; and Knowledge, a thirst
for which had been excited throughout Europe by the prog-
ress of the Reformation and the invention of printing, which
opened the stores of learning freely to all men. These
pursuits had succeeded to the fierce and demoralizing pas-
sions of our long civil wars, and the more terrible conten-
tions that had accompanied the great change in the national
religion. The nation had at length what, by comparison,
was a settled government. It could scarcely be said to be
at war; for the assistance which Elizabeth afforded to the
Hugonots in France, and to those who fought for freedom of
conscience and for independence of Spanish dominion in
the Netherlands, gave a healthy stimulus to the soldiers of
fortune who drew their swords for Henry of Navarre and
Maurice of Nassau; and though the English people might
occasionally lament the fate of some brave and accomplished
leader, as they wept for the death of Sidney at Zutphen,
there was little of general suffering that might make them
look upon those wars as any thing more to be dreaded than
some well -fought tournament. Shakspere, indeed, has not
forgotten the connection between the fields where honour
and fortune were to be won by wounds, and the knightly

TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

lists where the game of mimic war was still played upon a
magnificent scale \ where the courtier might, without personal
danger, ^

"Practise tilts and tournaments," ^

before his queen, who sat in her " fortress of perfect beauty,"

to witness the exploits of the "foster-children of desire,"

amidst the sounds of cannon ** fired with perfumed powder,"

and " moving mounts and costly chariots, and other devices."

There was another circumstance which marked the active

and inquiring character of these days, which Shakspere has

* noticed :

" Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits,"

exclaims Valentine, and Panthino says of Proteus, it

"would be great impeachment to his age
In having known no travel in his youth."

Travelling was the passion of Shakspere's times — the excite-
ment of those who did not specially devote themselves to ^
war, or discovery, or learning. The general practice of trav-
elling supplies one amongst many proofs that the nation
was growing commercial and rich, and that a spirit of in-
quiry was spread amongst the higher classes, which made it
"impeachment" to their age not to have looked upon for-
eign lands in their season of youth and activity.

The allusions which we thus find in this comedy to the
pursuits of the gallant spirits of the court of Elizabeth are
very marked. The incidental notices of the general con-
dition of the people are less decided; but a few passages
that have reference to popular manners may be pointed out.

The boyhood of Shakspere was passed in a country town

where the practices of the Catholic church had not been

wholly eradicated either by severity or reason. We have one

or two passing notices of these. Proteus, in the first scene,

says,

"I will be thy beadsvtvaw, "Vv\\t\\\A\\t«"

INTRODUCTION,

Shakspere had, doubtless, seen the rosary still worn, and the
"beads bidden," perhaps even in his own house. Julia
compares the strength of her affection to the unwearied
steps of "the true-devoted pilgrim." Shakspere had, per-
haps, heard the tale of some ancient denizen of a ruined ab-
bey who had made the pilgrimage to the shrine of our Lady
of Loretto, or had even visited the sacred tomb at Jerusa-
lem. Thurio and Proteus are to meet at "Saint Gregory's
well." This is the only instance in Shakspere in which a
holy well is mentioned; but how often must he have seen
the country people, in the early summer morning, or after-
their daily labour, resorting to the fountain which had been
hallowed from the Saxon times as under the guardian influ-
ence of some venerated saint ! These w-ells were closed and
neglected in London when Stowe wrote ; but at the begin-
ning of the last century, the custom of making journeys to
them, according to Bourne, still existed among the people of
the North; and he considers it to be "the remains of that
superstitious practice of the Papists of paying adoration to
wells and fountains." This play contains several indica-
tions of the prevailing taste for music, and exhibits an audi-
ence proficient in its technical terms ; for Shakspere never
addressed words to his hearers which they could not under-
stand. This taste was a distinguishing characteristic of the
age of Elizabeth ; it was not extinct in those of the first
Charles; but it was lost amidst the puritanism of the Com-
monwealth and the profligacy of the Restoration, and has
yet to be born again amongst us. There is one allusion in
this play to the games of the people — "bid the base,"
which shows us that the social sport which the school -boy
and school -girl still enjoy — that of prison base, or prison
bars — and which still makes the village green vocal with
their mirth on some fine evening of spring, was a game of
Shakspere's days. In the long winter nights the farmer's
hearth was made cheerful by the well-known ballads of

INTRODUCTION, 15

Robin Hood; and to "Robin Hood's fat friar" Shakspere
makes his Italian outlaws allude. But with music, and
sports, and ales, and old wife's stories, there was still much
misery in the land. "The beggar" not only spake "pul-
ing" "at Hallowmas," but his importunities or his threats
were heard at all seasons. The disease of the country
was vagrancy ; and to this deep-rooted evil there were only
applied the surface remedies to which Launce alludes, " the
stocks " and " the pillory." The whole nation was still in
a state of transition from semi - barbarism to civilization ;
but the foundations of modern society had been laid. The
labourers had ceased to be vassals; the middle class had
been created ; the power of the aristocracy had been hum-
bled; and the nobles had clustered round the sovereign,
having cast aside the low tastes which had belonged to
their fierce condition of independent chieftains. This was
a state in which literature might, without degradation, be
adapted to the wants of the general people ; and " the best
public instructor" then was the drama. Shakspere found
the taste created; but it was for him, most especially, to
purify and exalt it.

It is scarcely necessary, perhaps, to caution our readers
against imagining that because Shakspere in this, as in all
his plays, has some reference to the manners of his own
country and times, he has given a false representation of the
manners of the persons whom he brings upon the scene.
The tone of the Two Gentlemen of Verona is, perhaps, not so
thoroughly Italian as some of his later plays — the Merchant
of Venice^ for example ; but we all along feel that his charac-
ters are not English. The allusions to home customs which
we have pointed out, although curious and important as il-
lustrations of the age of Shakspere, are so slight that they
scarcely amount to any violation of the most scrupulous pro-
priety; and regarded upon the principle which holds that in
a work of art the exact should be in subo^dv^TsJCv^^ \55» "^^

1 6 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

higher claims of the imaginative, they are no violations of
propriety at all.

Coleridge says, in The Friend : "It is Shakspere's peculiar
excellence that, throughout the whole of his splendid picture
gallery (the reader will excuse the acknowledged inadequacy
of this metaphor), we find individuality everywhere — mere
portrait nowhere. In all his various characters we still feel
ourselves communing with the same nature, which is every-
where present as the vegetable sap in the branches, sprays,
leaves, buds, blossoms, and fruits, their shapes, tastes, and
odours. Speaking of the effect, that is, his works them-
selves, we may define the excellence of their method as
consisting in that just proportion, that union and interpene-
tration of the universal and the particular, which must ever
pervade all works of decided genius and true science."
Nothing can be more just and more happy than this defini-
tion of the distinctive quality of Shakspere's works — a quality
which puts them so immeasurably above all other works —
"the union and interpenetration of the universal and the
particular." It constitutes the peculiar charm of his matured
style— it furnishes the key to the surpassing excellence of
his representations, whether of facts which are cognizable by
the understanding or by the senses, in which a single word
individualizes the "particular" object described or alluded
to, and, without separating it from the "universal," to which
it belongs, gives it all the value of a vivid colour in a pict-
ure, perfectly distinct, but also completely harmonious. The
skill which he attained in this wonderful mastery over the
whole world of materials for poetical construction was the re-
sult of continued experiment. In his characters, especially,
we see the gradual growth of this extraordinary power, as
clearly as we perceive the differences between his early and
his matured forms of expression. But it is evident to us,
that, in his very earliest delineations of character, he had

INTRODUCTION,

conceived the principle which was to be developed in "his
splendid picture gallery." In the comedy before us, Valen-
tine and Proteus are the " two gentlemen," Julia and Sil-
via the two ladies "beloved," Speed and'Launce the two
" clownish " servants. And yet how different is the one from
the other of the same class ! The German critic Gervinus
has honoured us by treating " the two gentlemen," the " two
ladies beloved," and the two "clownish servants," on the
same principle of contrast. Proteus, who is first represented
to us as a lover, is evidently a very cold and calculating one.
He is " a votary to fond desire ;" but he complains of his mis-
tress that she has metamorphosed him :

" Made me neglect my studies — lose my time."

He ventures, however, to write to Julia; and when he has
her answer, " her oath for love, her honour's pawn," he imme-
diately takes the most prudent view of their position :

" O that our fathers would applaud our loves !"

But he has not decision enough to demand this approba-
tion :

** I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter,
Lest he should take exceptions to my love."

He parts with his mistress in a very formal and well-behaved
style; they exchange rings, but Julia has first offered "this
remembrance" for her sake; he makes a commonplace
vow of constancy, whilst Julia rushes away in tears; he quits
Verona for Milan, and has a new love at first sight the in-
stant he sees Silvia. The mode in which he sets about be-
traying his friend, and wooing his new mistress, is eminently
characteristic of the calculating selfishness of his nature:

. " If I can check my erring love, I will ;
If not, to compass her I '11 use my skill."

He is of that very numerous class of men who would always
be virtuous, if virtue would accomplish their object as well
as vice; who prefer tiuth to lyin^, wVv^tv \^\w^ \% >aj\^\^^^'5*-

1 8 TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

sary; and* who have a law of justice in their own minds,
which if they can observe they " will," but " if not " — if
they find themselves poor erring mortals, which they infalli-
bly do — they think

"Their stars are more in fault than they."

This Proteus is a very contemptible fellow, who finally ex-
hibits himself as a ruffian and a coward, and is punished by
the heaviest infliction that the generous Valentine could be-
stow — his forgiveness. Generous, indeed, and most confid-
ing, is our Valentine — a perfect contrast to Proteus. In the
first scene he laughs at the passion of Proteus, as if he knew
that it was alien to his nature; but when he has become
enamoured himself, with what enthusiasm he proclaims his

devotion :

" Why, man, she is mine own j
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl.'*

In this passionate admiration we have the germ of Romeo,
and so also in the scene where Valentine is banished :

"And why not death, rather than living torment?"

But here is only a sketch of the strength of a deep and all-
absorbing passion. The whole speech of Valentine upon his
banishment is forcible and elegant; but compare him with
Romeo in the same condition :

" Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives ; and every cat, and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her.
But Romeo may not."

We are not wandering from our purpose of contrasting Pro-
teus and Valentine, by showing that the character of Valen-
tine is compounded of some of the elements that we find in
Romeo; for the strong impulses of both these lovers are as

INTRODUCTION-,

much opposed as it is possible to the subtle devices of Pro
teus. The confiding Valentine goes to his banishment with
the cold comfort that Proteus gives him :

"Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that/'*

He is compelled to join the outlaws, but he makes conditions
with them that exhibit the goodness of his nature; and we
hear no more of him till the catastrophe, when his traitorous
friend is forgiven with the same confiding generosity that has
governed all his intercourse with him. We have little doubt
of the corruption, or, at any rate, of the unfinished nature, of
the passage in which he is made to give up Silvia to his
false friend — for that would be entirely inconsistent with
the ardent character of his love, and an act of injustice to-
wards Julia, which he could not commit. But it is perfectly
natural and probable that he should receive Proteus again
into his confidence, upon his declaration of "hearty sorrow,"
and that he should do so upon principle :

"Who by repentance is not satisfied
Is nor of heaven nor earth."

It is, to our minds, quite delightful to find in this, which we
consider amongst the earliest of Shakspere's plays, that ex-
hibition of the real Christian spirit of charity which, more or
less, pervades all his writings; but which, more than any
other quality, has made some persons, who deem their own
morality as of a higher and purer order, cry out against
them, as giving encouragement to evil-doers. We shall have
occasion hereafter to speak of the noble lessons which Shak-
spere teaches dramatically (and not according to the childish
devices of those who would make the dramatist write a
^^morar^ at the end of five acts, upon the approved plan of
a Fable in a spelling-book), and we therefore pass over, for
the present, those profound critics who say " he has no moral
purpose in view." But there are some who are not quite ^Ci
pedantically wise as to affirm " he \>\\*\ wo •;^\.\s.N\\Na^ "^^

20 TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

that retributive justice which, when human affairs are rightly
understood, pervades them all;'' but who yet think that Pro-
teus ought to have been at least banished, or sent to the
galleys for a few years with the outlaws; that Angelo, in
Measure for Measure^ should have been hanged ; that Leon-
tes, in the Winter^ s Tale, was not sufficiently punished for his
cruel jealousy by sixteen years of sorrow and repentance ;
that lachimo, in Cymbeline, is not treated with poetical jus-
tice when Posthumus says :

"Kneel not to me:
The power that I have on you is to spare you ;" —

and that Prospero is a very weak magician not to apply his
power to a better purpose than only to give his wicked
brother and his followers a little passing punishment — weak,
indeed, when he has them in his hands, to exclaim :

"Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury
Do I take part. The rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel."

Not so thought Shakspere. He, that never represented
crime as virtue, had the largest pity for the criminal. ** He
has never varnished over wild and blood-thirsty passions
with a pleasing exterior — never clothed crime and want of
principle with a false show of greatness of soul;" but, on the
other hand, he has never made the criminal a monster, and
led us to flatter ourselves that he is not a man. It is as a
man, subject to the same infirmities as all are who are born
of woman, that he represents Proteus, and lachimo, and oth-
er of the lesser criminals, as receiving pardon upon repent-
ance. It is not so much that they are deserving of pardon,
but that it would be inconsistent with the characters of the
pardoners that they should exercise their power with sever-
}h\ Sh.ikspere lived in an age when the vindictive passions

INTRODUCTION. 21

were too frequently let loose by men of all sects and opin-
ions, and much too frequently in the name of that religion
which came to teach peace and good-will. Is it to be ob-
jected to him, then, that wherever he could he asserted the
supremacy of charity and mercy; that he taught men the
" quality " of that blessed principle which

"Droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven;"

that he proclaimed — no doubt to the annoyance of all self-
worshippers— that " the web of our life is of a mingled yarn,
good and ill together;" and that he asked of those who
would be hard upon the wretched, " Use every man after his
desert, and who shall scape whipping?" We may be per-
mitted to believe that this large toleration had its influence
in an age of racks and gibbets ; and we know not how much
of this charitable spirit may have come to the aid of the
more authoritative and holier teaching of the same principle
— forgotten even by the teachers, but gradually finding its
way into the heart of the multitude — till human punishments
at length were compelled to be subservient to other influences
than those of the angry passions, and the laws could only
dare to ask for justice, but not for vengeance.

The generous, confiding, courageous, and forgiving spirit
of Valentine is well appreciated by the Duke — "Thou art
a gentleman." In this praise are included all the virtues
which Shakspere desired to represent in the character of
Valentine ; the absence of which virtues he has also indi-
cated in the selfish Proteus. The Duke adds, " and well de-
rived." " Thou art a gentleman " in " thy spirit " — a gentle-
man in "thy unrivalled merit;" and thou hast the honours
of ancestry — the further advantage of honourable progeni-
tors. This line, in one of Shakspere's earliest plays, is a key
to some of his personal feelings. He was himself a true
gentleman, though the child of humble parents. His ex-
quisite delineations of the female charact^x ^'sX.-s^v^ '^^^s^s^

2 2 TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

surpassing refinement and purity of his mind in relation to
women \ and thus, if there were no other evidence of the son
of the wool-stapler of Stratford being a "gentleman," this
one prime feature of the character would be his most pre-
eminently. Well then might he, looking to himself, assert
the principle that rank and ancestry are additions to the
character of the gentleman, but not indispensable compo-
nent parts. "Thou art a gentleman, and well derived."

\From Verplauck's ^^ Shakespeare^ *'\

Meres, in his list of the dramatic productions by which
Shakespeare had, before the year 1598, established the gen-
eral reputation of being " the most excellent among the Eng-
lish in both tragedy and comedy," places the Two Gentlemen
of Verona first in order of thirteen dramas which he names.
. . . His poem of Venus and Adonis, first printed in 1592, he
himself has (in his dedication) designated as " the first heir
of his invention," and it may probably have been written be-
fore he removed to London, — and before, or not long after,
his twentieth year. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, if not
his earliest comedy, was in all probability written in the
bame, or at least the next, stage of his intellectual progress.

Hanmer, and after him Upton, thought its style so little
resembling his general dramatic manner, that they pro-
nounced with great confidence that " he could have had no
other hand in it than enlivening, with some speeches and
lines, thrown in here and there," the production of some in-
ferior dramatist, from whose thoughts his own are easily to
be distinguished, "as being of a different stamp from the
rest." There seems no reasonable ground for such an
opinion ; which has, indeed, been fully refuted by Johnson,
and rejected by all succeeding critics. On the contrary,
the play is full of undeniable marks of the author, in its

* The Illustrated Shakespeare^ edited by G. C. Verplanck (New York,
1S47 , vol. i. ^.^oi TG.of V,

INTRODUCTION.

strong resemblance in taste and style to his earlier plays
and poems, as well as in the indications it gives of his
future power of original humour and vivid delineation of
character. It, indeed, has the characteristics of a young
author who had already acquired a ready and familiar mas-
tery of poetic diction and varied versification, and who had
studied nature with a poet's eye; for the play abounds in
brief passages of great beauty and melody. There are
here, too, as in his other early dramas, outlines of thought
and touches of character, sometimes faintly or imperfectly
sketched, to which he afterwards returned in his maturer
years, and wrought them out into his most striking scenes
and impressive passages. Thus, Julia and Silvia are, both
of them, evidently early studies of female love and loveli-
ness, from the unpractised "prentice hand" of the same
great artist, who was afterwards to portray with matchless
delicacy and truth the deeper affections, the nobler intellects,
and the varied imaginative genius of Viola, of Rosalind, and
of Imogen. Indeed, as a drama of character, however in-
ferior to his own after -creations, it is, when compared with
the works of his predecessors and contemporaries, superior
alike in taste and in originality; for (as Mr. Hallam justly
observes) "it was, probably, the first English comedy in
which characters are drawn ideal and yet true :" although,
when contrasted with the vivid and discriminating deline-
ations to which his genius afterwards familiarized his audi-
ence, both the truth of nature and the ideal grace appear
marked with the faint colouring and uncertain drawing of a
timid hand. The composition, as a whole, does not seem to
have been poured forth with the rapid abundance of his later
works ; but, in its graver parts, bears evidence of the young
author's careful elaboration, seldom daring to deviate from
the habits of versification to which his muse had been accus-
tomed, and fearful of venturing on any untried novelty of
expression •

TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Johnson (probably on the authority of his friend, Sir J.
Reynolds) has well replied to the objection raised by Upton
to Shakespeare's right of authorship to this piece, founded
on the difference of style and manner from his other plays,
by comparing this difference to the variation of manner be-
tween Raphael's fi/st pictures and those of his ripened talent.
This comparison is more apt and pregnant than Johnson's
limited acquaintance with ihe arts of design allowed him to
perceive. Raphael, as compared with other great masters
of his art, was eminently the dramatic painter — the delin-
eator of human action, passion, character, and expression ;
and, as the peculiar powers of his genius developed them-
selves by exercise, so, too, he gradually formed to himself his
own taste and style of execution and expression ; while, like
his great dramatic antetype, his earlier works, full of grace
and mind, yet bore the marks of the feebler school in which
he had studied, as well as of the timidity and constraint of
half-formed talent.

Not only is the language of this piece carefully studied,
but there seems no haste or carelessness in the construction
of the plot, unless we may admit the criticism of Judge
Blackstone, whose legally trained acuteness has done for
Shakespeare almost as much as the clearness and graceful-
ness of a style acquired in the best school of English litera-
ture has contributed to methodizing and elucidating the
mysteries of his country's law. He remarks that the great
fiiult of the play is " the hastening too abruptly, and without
preparation, to the denouement, which shows that it was one
of Shakespeare's very early performances." This, however.
appears to be rather the want of dramatic skill, to be acquired
by experience, than any effect of negligence or haste, and is,
after all, no very serious fault. If, as a poem, it has little of
that exuberance of thought which afterwards overflowed his
page, yet, in the construction of his story, there is not only
no deficiency of invention, but even more labour in that way

INTRODUCTION.

than he was afterwards accustomed to bestow. The charac-
ters were not only new and uncopied from any dramatic
model, but the plot and incidents are substantially equally
original ; for, although Skottowe, and the other diligent
searchers for the Original materials of his dramas, have
found two or three resembling incidents in Sidney's "Ar-
cadia," and elsewhere, still there is nothing to show that the
young dramatist had employed any prior story as the ground-
work of his plot; and the incidents he used were such as
form part of the common stock of romantic narrative.

In the humorous parts of the play, he is still more unfet-
tered by authority, and more whimsically and boldly original.
He happened to find the stage mainly abandoned in its
comic underplots and interludes to the coarse buffoonery of
barren-witted clowns, who excited the laughter of their audi-
ences by jokes as coarse and practical as may be now wit-
nessed in a modern circus. From the coarse farce of Gam-
vier GurtorCs Needle to Launce and Speed was a gigantic
stride, even with reference to the probability of the scene ;
although fastidious criticism may still find ample cause for
objection. But it is now too late to protest against the im-
probability or the coarseness of Launce and his dog Crab.
'J'hey have both of them become real and living persons of
the great world of fictitious reality, and must continue to
amuse generation after generation, along with Sancho and
Dapple, Clinker and Chowder, and many other squires and
dogs of high and low degree, whom " posterity will not will-
ingly let die."

Upon the whole, the Two Gentlemen of Verona^ whatever
rank of merit may be assigned to it by critics, will always be
read and studied with deeper interest than it can probably
excite as a mere literary performance, because it exhibits to
us the great dramatist at a most interesting point in his
career; giving striking, but imperfect and irregular, indica-
tions of his future powers.

26 TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

\^From Charles Cowden-Clarkis ^'' Shakespeare-Characters.''^ '^'\

Much interesting speculation has been bestowed upon the
supposed chronology of Shakespeare's plays; and in some
instances the theories appear to be highly plausible — the
one of Coleridge especially so ; and this was to be expected
from so acute a judge of intellectual development as well as
of the structure and internal mechanism of language. More
than one commentator has conjectured that the Twelfth
Nighty if not the last, was unquestionably one of the latest
of our poet's compositions; t and when we take into con-
sideration the wonderful outpouring and racy quality both
of the wit and humour in that play, the exquisite polish of
the diction, the richness, and, at the same time, the chastity
of the poetical imagery, also the felicitous propriety and
coherency of all the characters, we must perforce come to
the conclusion, in comparing it with other comedies of the
poet, that it was written in the full vigour and adulthood of
his intellectual conformation. For the converse of this very
reason, there is little doubt that the Two Gentlemen of Verona
may be classed among the earliest of his compositions. The
story (taken from a novel) is of that romantic cast and
commonplace material which would attract a young writer.
Item, young men falling in love ; their

" spring of love * resembling '
The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away !"

One youth being faithful, the other false ; the damsels both
eloping, and in disguise ; item, a pantaloon lover, rich, and

* From the unpublished " ^tcond Series" of the Shakespeare-Charac-
ters (cf. 2 Hen. IK p. i8), through the kindness of Mrs. Mary Cowden-
Clarke.

t This was before the discovery of Manningham's diary (see T, A\ p.
lo), which showed that the play was written before 1602. — Ed.

INTRODUCTION,

therefore, of course, favoured by the father ; item, generous
and very "jolly green" robbers, who, in their first interview,
proclaim themselves assassins and common stabbers, and
in three seconds are seized with such a spasm of admiration
of the banished lover who has fallen among them that they
constitute him their captain on the spot, — very like the
schoolboys' game at " Watchmen and Thieves ;" item, two
waggish serving-men, and a chattering lady's maid — comprise
the plot and its agents. It is true, that of such material is
concocted a large proportion of dramatic love-scenes ; but
in his working out the several characters in this play, even
the unpractised judge will recognize a want of the poet's
usual caution, as well as of artistical forethought and prepa-
ration in their development and working up. The changes
in the events, and, above all, the impulses and actions of
the individuals, are brought about with an abruptness, and
an indifference to coherency, even probability, that bespeak
the young practitioner.

The make-believe fierceness of the outlav/s, just alluded
to, is a trifle among the incongruities of character in the
piece. But there is the principal agent, Proteus ; a man
who "suns himself" in the esteem and confidence of all his
acquaintance, is the early and bosom-friend of Valentine,
is trusted (and to all appearance deservedly so) by his mis-
tress, Julia. He leaves her with the sincerest vows of con-
stancy; and the moment he beholds the mistress of his
friend, he not only becomes enamoured of her, but, with a
wantonness of treachery, turns low, scoundrel informer to
her father of their projected elopement. This not being
enough to fill the measure of his villany, at the instance of
that father he actually consents to become the calumniator
of his unoffending friend to his friend's mistress, and after-
wards to woo her for the pantaloon lover, Thurio ; an office
which he nevertheless endeavours to convert to his own. ad-
vantage. He next sends his own vt\\s>Vc^%^^\oN^-^^^'^>'^^^

28 TPrO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

by herself (disguised, however, as his page) to her rival ; and,
immediately after, attempts the greatest crime that man can
perpetrate towards woman — against that same woman, too,
whom he has vainly endeavoured to seduce from his friend ;
and when, in the sequel, he reads his repentance in four
lines, he is at once accepted in two lines by the man he had
so injured — who, with unique and amusing simplicity, says:
"'I'hen 1 am paid, and once again I do regeive thee honest."
But, to crown all, his mistress, Julia, congratulates herself
upon having redeemed such a lover! All these confound-
ings of the probabilities of event may be excused in a story
of high romance ; but where there is any profession of hu-
man passion, we must look to have some regard to the con-
comitant mystery of human nature in the abstract. Now,
Proteus is, confessedly, a solid scoundrel ; and, what is
worse, he is a mean scoundrel. If there be any quality that
a woman esteems in man, it is the high assertion of a bold,
defying nature ; and what most revolts her in man is a
sneaking and compromising one. And this accords with the
law of their physical conformation ; for being formed weaker
than man, as regards tendons and muscles, they look to
him as their champion and defender: hence a woman enter-
tains an instinctive disgust at a rascal. She will cling to a
ruffian, a highwayman, even a murderer — for the higher
crimes are not always unattended by generous impulses — but
she will despise and shun a pettifogging sneaksby. While a
man would laugh at and amuse himself with the beast, a
woman would be more serious. She sees no fun in a das-
tardly traitor ; nor is there : there can be no hope of re-
demption in a " mean " soul. In one, therefore, of Proteus*s
composition it is a violence offered to nature that a woman
like Julia (who has witnessed the whole course of his despi-
cable career) should be supposed capable to receive and wel-
come him ; nevertheless, she does ; his repentance coming

INTRODUCTION,

only when his plots are discovered, and the sincerity of it
suspicious.

Julia herself is a perfect chrysolite of sweetness, constan-
cy, high-mindedness, and maidenly delicacy. Of her cold-
hearted and faithless lover she says : " Because I love him
I must pity him ;' and, with the generosity of true greatness,
she describes her rival, Silvia, as "a virtuous gentlewoman,
mild, and beautiful." Her well-known speech to her wait-
ing-woman, upon assuming male attire, that she may follow
her lover, is equal in elegance to any thing of its class that
ever was penned. Lucetta, her maid, dissuading her from
her purposed elopement, Julia replies :

"The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know*st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course.
I '11 be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step.
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I '11 rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium."

And her last speech, when discovered as his page, is the

only one bordering upon a reproach that she makes to him :

this is what is meant by calling her " high-minded." She

says :

" Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart.
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root !
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush !
Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me
Such an immodest raiment, if shame live
In a disguise of love.

TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,

Women to change their shapes than men their minds."

It may possibly have been heretofore observed that the
standers-by in a game always see more than the players of
it ; and in nothing is this more signally exemplified than in
the serious game of "Love." Shakespeare has therefore (of
course) made the waiting-woman, Lucetta, with all a woman's
quickness and suspicion on that point, doubt the truth and
constancy of Proteus. Her conduct, when Julia has de-
termined to follow him in male attire, is distinguished by
its plain sense, and solicitude for the happiness of her mis-
tress ; that of the mistress is all confidence and amiable
blindness :

^^ yiilia. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have
What thou think'st meet and is most mannerly.
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me
For undertaking so unstaid a journey?
I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.

Lucetta. If you think so, then stay at home and go not.

yuiia. Nay, that I will not.

Lucetta. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey when you come,
No matter who 's displeas'd when you are gone.
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.

yulia. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear.
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love.
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Lucetta. All these are servants to deceitful men.

Julia. Base men, that use them to so base effect 1
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth;
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles,
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate.
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart.
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.

Lucetta. Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him I

yulia. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong
To bear a hard opinion of his truth.
Only deserve my love by loving him ;

INTRODUCTION. 31

And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need ot,
To furnish me upon my longing journey.
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
My goods, my lands, my reputation ;
Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence.
Come, answer not, but to it presently !
I am impatient of my tarriance."

An angelic purity and self-respect such as Julia's never
could assimilate with a nature like that of Proteus. Her
very quality of soul would lead her to deplore the wreck of
all where she had " garner'd up her heart," and to forgive
the traitor: but to unite with and love such a man were to
anomalize her own creation; it were, in short, almost to de-
mand an impossibility. In all this, however, what a glorious
thing is the contemplation of our Shakespeare's gentleness
of nature, and adoration of the spirit of beauty and holiness,
as it shines in its calm and tranquil lustre in the loving heart
of a sincere woman ! In his earliest production, as in his
latest — in his Julia and Silvia in the Two Gentlemen of Ve-
rona^ and his Viola and Olivia of the Twelfth Night — there is
the same homage to a virtuous passion ; to truth and con-
stancy, generosity and loving -kindness. In the worthier
characters among the men, too, we have in this his earliest
as in his later productions the same transparent and unsus-
pecting nature — with magnanimity urrder injuries. The
atonement which the Duke makes to Valentine under all his
trials is of a piece with Valentine's own generous behaviour
(which I fear I may have treated somewhat flippantly when
alluding to the young lover's facility in forgiveness); being
that of a courageous man, conscious of his own rectitude and
good-will to all — even to his enemy. Posthumus dismisses
the slanderer, lachimo, in those dignified words : " Live, and
deal with others better." Posthumus, however, would not
have received lachimo to his confidence : Shakespeare was
a more experienced man when he wrote d\^ C^jmbcVmt \ Vr.

TWO GEXTLEMEX OF VEI^OXA.

had learned that the thing was impossible. Yet lachimo
was not so vile a character as Proteus : nevertheless, in the
same fine spirit, he makes Valenrine receive the "hearty
sorrow" of Proteus (his own words) as a ^'ransom for of-
fence;" adding :

" Who bv repentance is not satisfied
Is nor of heaven nor earth, tor these are pieas'cL''

So youthful is the constitution of this play, that I can
fancy it to have been the companion of one or two others in
the young [>oet*s wallet, when he set on on his journey to
London, to '* seek his fortune :" and what a fortune ! I re-
peat that it is perfectly delightful to trace this consistency
of the pure Christian spirit through all the writings of our
poet — our own — ours especially, and the poet of the whole
earth generally. There is no vacillation in him ; he does
not at one period of his career inculcate the revenge of a
demon, and at another — with the questionable piety of a
Maw-worm — welcome the lash of persecution. Our Shake-
speare is never in extremes ; he never defies or rebels ; and
he never cants : he has himself established the a.xiom, that
"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill to-
gether;" and no one more practically than he has inculcated
the command to forgive our brother, even to the seventy-and-
seventh offence. He believed that there was "good in
every thing;" and he has therefore never (of his own cre-
ation) presented us with a human being of unmitigated evil :
neither has he (as has been well said) "varnished over wild
and blood-thirsty passions with a pleasing exterior — never
clothed crime and want of principle with a false show of
greatness of soul." He has, in short, never fostered the
wicked, or pandered to the Pharisee and self- worshipper:
his all-abounding charity is in itself a rebuke to the "too-
seeming holy," who talk of grace, yet shut the gates of mercy
upon the weak and the frail.

INTRODUCTION,

Upon this subject of Shakespeare's forbearance towards
the infirmities of his brother mortals, Mr. Charles Knight
makes the following sound and philosophical reflection;
" He lived in an age when the vindictive passions were too
frequently let loose by men of all sects and opinions, and
much too frequently in the name of that religion which came
to teach 'peace and good-will.' Is it to be objected to him,
then, that wherever he could he asserted the supremacy of
charity and mercy" [and will it be believed that his very
lenity towards delinquents has been made a ground of sus-
picion against himself?]; "that he taught men the 'quality*
of that principle which * droppeth as the gentle rain from
heaven ;' ... and that he asked of those who would be hard
upon the wretched, * Use every man according to his desert,
and who shall escape whipping?'. We may be permitted to
believe that this large toleration had its influence in an age
of racks and gibbets \ and we know not how much of this
charitable spirit may have come to the aid of the more au-
thoritative and holier teaching of the same principle — for-
gotten even by the teachers, but gradually finding its way
into the heart of the multitude — till human punishments
at length were compelled to be subservient to other influ-
ences than those of the angry passions, and the laws could
only dare to ask for justice, but not for vengeance."

The mirth and humour in the Two Gentlemen of Verona \
are confined to the two servants, Launce and Speed.
Launce, who, with his dog Crab, is as complete a piece of
individuality as Sancho with his ass Dapple, is an amusing
and original fellow. Some one of the commentators cen-
sures his and his brother- servant Speed's humour as being
comprised of the " lowest and most trifling conceits." It had
been well that some commentators had restricted themselves
solely to the verifying of their text with that of the folio of
1623. " Low " the " conceits " of Messrs. Launce and Speed
may be, for the authors of them are ^o\. ^v^xvcv^v^^^^'^

TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

high intellectual or social refinement ; but surely the " hu
mour " is good, of its class — quaint, rich, and uncommon —
although it be not consistent with the modern tone of jest-
ing. The "commentator" would probably have preferred
the Congreve school of servants, who were quite as refined
and witty as their masters. Nevertheless, Launce's upbraid-
ing Crab with his ingratitude, and indecorous conduct in the
company of other "gentlemanlike dogs" under the Duke's
table, is irresistibly droll, and as droll as indecorous ; and
no wonder Master Launce got kicked out for fathering his
minion's misbehaviour. His description, also, of his leave-
taking at home, when about to accompany his master on his
travels, is queer and eccentric : and it must be borne in
mind that foreign travel was a grave, and, by the ignorant
commonalty, thought to be a perilous adventure in those
days ; since, not a hundred and twenty years ago, cautious
persons, when leaving Northampton for London (sixty-six
miles), would make their wills ; and the whole congregation
of kindred, friends, and neighbours would assemble to take
leave of them. So, Launce and his family are in a terrible
pucker at parting :

" Nay, 't will be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the
Launccs have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the
prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperiars court.
I think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives; my mother
weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat
wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not
this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble-stone,
and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have wept to
have seen our parting; why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept
herself blind at my parting. Nay, I 'II show you the manner of it. This
shoe is my father ; — no, this left shoe is my father ; — no, no, this left shoe
is my mother ; — nay, that cannot be so neither ; — ^yes, it is so, it is so, it
hath the worser sole. This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and
this my father. A vengeance on 't ! there 't is : now, sir, this staff is my
sister, for, look vou, she is as white as a lilv and as small as a wand; this
hat is Nan, our maid ; I am the dog ; — no, the dog is himself, and I am

INTR0DUC7I0N,

the dog — O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I
to my father: Father, your blessing. Now should not the shoe speak a
word for weeping : now should I kiss my father ; well, he weeps on.
Now come I to my mother ; — O, that she could speak now like a wood
woman ! Well, I kiss her ; why, there 't is ; here 's my mother's breath
up and down. Now come I to my sister ; mark the moan sne makes.
Now, the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word ; but see
how I lay the dust with my tears."

When his fellow -servant, Speed, eagerly inquires of him
repeating his master Sir Proteus's love-suit, " But tell me
true, will 't be a match.?" Launce characteristically and pro-
foundly answers : " Ask my dog : if he say ay, it will ; if
he say no, it will ; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it
will." Launce's best spice of philosophy is where he says :
" I reckon this always — that a man is never undone till he
be hanged." The character of Launce reminds one in some
degree, on account of its quaintness, of Launcelot Gobbo
in The Merchant of Venice: but the humour of the former
is even more eccentric — more " rum " — than that of old
Shylock's serving-lad. This peculiar vein of drollery was
doubtless popular in Shakespeare's day; for he has not
unfrequently repeated and varied it in the characters of
his men-servants.

Speed is a fellow of a " higher mark and likelihood " than
Launce, who appears a sort of substitute for the " fool " in
the piece ; and, like the legitimate fool, a mixture of wag,
zany, and monkey; and mostly monkey for trick and mis-
chief. Speed is as lively as quicksilver; is an eternal pun-
ster; and not without cleverness in observing character. A
man would own a choice round of acquaintance if Speed
were his dullest companion.

As an instance of his quickness in observing character,
there is not only the witty speech at the commencement of
act ii., enumerating the tokens by which he knows that his
master, Sir Valentine, is in love; but there is the dialogue
with Sir Proteus in the first scene of ttv^ >^Va.^ ^^^i^^\^ ^n^^^^

36 TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

gives an account of his having carried a message to Julia
from her lover. In this dialogue it should seem that Shake-
speare meant to insinuate that Proteus, among his other de-
fects, was a miserly fellow ; for Speed, who is not his servant,
but Valentine's, is obliged to push him hard in the little
affair of remuneration for the trouble of dancing on his er-
rands. It is observable, too, that when he does get the
" screw to act," he only succeeds in squeezing from him one
of the smallest coins. If such were really Shakespeare's
design, it is but another example of his care in combining
qualities to enforce and substantiate the coarser features of
his characters. Penuriousness could scarcely fail to become
one of the vices to compound such a nature as that of Pro-
teus.

The play winds up with an effect of "And so, every thing
ended well, and they all lived happily afterwards " — that is
in delightful harmony with the simple primitiveness of the
romance in the story which it dramatizes. The Duke is no
less facile in his listening to reason and forgiving the lovers
than the lovers have been facile in coming to a right under-
standing between themselves; Proteus's repentance and re-
turn to his faith towards his original mistress is no less
prompt than Valentine's magnanimity of friendship; and
Julia's ready belief in the future steadfastness of her hitherto
fickle lover is of the same complexion with the rose-coloured
hue that pervades the whole conduct of scene and person-
ages here. There is something wonderfully youthful — al-
most childlike — in the tone of the close of this play, that per-
fectly accords with our belief in its being one of the very
youngest of Shakespeare's productions; the miraculous ease
of conversion from bad to good, of evil courses to righteous
procedure, of inconstancy to constancy, and of narrow-mind-
edness to generosity, being among those miracles in which
youth is prone to believe and which youthful poets delight
to represent as not only possible, but natural.

INTROD UCTION.

\From Mr. F. J. FurnivalVs lutrodttction to the Play.*\

The Iwo Gentlemen is certainly far less beautiful in fancy
than the Dream^ but it is a great advance on that play in
dramatic construction. Shakspere has at length settled down
into that field of Italian story which is to be hereafter the
scene of his greatest triumphs. As after The Tempest, so af-
ter the Dream, there seems to have been a partial exhaustion
of original effort, and a falling-back on outside models. The
play is strongly linked with the Dream, Its subject is the
same, fickleness of love. Two men seek one girl ; one of
the men (Proteus, Demetrius) is loved by another girl (Julia,
Helena), to whom he was betrothed, but whom he deserts for
a time, who follows him, and whom he at last turns to again.
Both couples are to be married on the same day, both girls
run after their lovers, both fathers want to marry their daugh-
ters to men whom they dislike, but consent to their girls'
choice at l^st. Hermia trusts Helena with her secret and
she betrays it, Valentine trusts Proteus with his secret and
Proteus betrays it. We have a Duke and a wood in both
plays. The links with the Errors are, that Julia seeking her
husband is like Adriana seeking hers. Speed and Launce
are like the two Dromios; Launce and his milkmaid are like
the Ephesian Dromio and his kitchenmaid, catalogue of her
charms and all. We have a link with Chaucer as well as
Love's Labours Lost in Valentine's contempt for love, and
after-conquest by it, being the counterpart of Troilus as well
as of Berowne. That the Two Gentlemen and its incidents
were great favourites with Shakspere is evident from his use
of them in after-plays. In The Merchant we have Portia's
discussion of her lovers with Nerissa admirably developed
from Julia's here with Lucetta, and also Portia's putting on
man's dress and quizzing herself in it developed from Julia's
here. This is repeated again in Rosalind in As You Like It,

* The Leopold Shakspere (London, 1877^, ^. -swixxx. ^^ \k^\xw«^\ss^.

38 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

In 77U Merchant^ too, we have Launcelot Gobbo developed
from Launce, with a bit of Speed. In Romeo and jfuliet we
have Juliet going to confession like Silvia here. In Twelfth
Night we have Viola like Julia, each as page, carrying mes-
sages of love from the man she loves to the girl he loves, to
whom she tells her own story disguised ; and in each case the
man whom the page-girl loves at last marries her. In Much
Ado we have the signs of love in Benedick developed from
those described by Speed here. In All 's Well we have a
parallel to the Host scene, and in Cymbeline we may compare
Imogen with Julia. In these early plays, we have love's power
over men's oaths to one another in Lovers Labours Lost, over
men's friendship and their vows to women in the Dream and
the Two Gentlemtn, yet in the latter friendship overcomes
love in Valentine's offer to give up Silvia to Proteus. The
fickleness of love is also seen in the Ej-roj's^ the Dream, and
the Two Gentlemen, as in Romeo's change from Rosalind to
Juliet. Though the Two Gentlemen is dramatically an ad-
vance on the Dream, and though we have nothing undigni-
fied on the ladies' part to set against Hermia's scratching
threat and Helena's long legs (except Julia's statement that
if Silvia had not been kind to her she 'd have scratched the
eyes out of Silvia's picture), yet the drama has to an Eng-
lishman the terrible blot of Valentine's romantic friendship
inducing him to offer to give up Silvia to Proteus, after the
hitter's threat of violating Silvia, just because Proteus says
he repents. This, though possibly Italian and romantic,* of-
fends us now, and it undoubtedly points to Shakspere's early
time, as his making both his heroines run after their lovers
also docs. The heroine of the play is without doubt Julia :
she suffers most, she loves most, she says the best things.
'J'he hero, Valentine, is a most generous, frank fellow, yet

* But it is certainly consistent with Shakspere's offer to give up his
mistress to his friend Will, in Sonnet 40:

" Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all," etc

INTROD UCTION.

dull withal. He cannot understand Silvia's love-message to
him when she gives him back his own letter, and Speed has
to explain it to him. He walks into the trap the Duke has
laid for him without a grain of suspicion. But the beautiful
unselfishness of his reproach to Proteus on his base treach-
ery, " I am sorry I must never trust thee more," his shifting
the blame to " time most accurst," show that he had some-
what of the nature of Theseus in the Dream; while the de-
velopment in him of that serious, earnest love which we saw
in Antipholus of Syracuse for Luciana prepares us for the full
outburst of it in Romeo and jfuliet. The lines in which Val-
entine laments his banishment from his love are the first
stroke of the death-knell of" banished" which rings through
the later play. There seems a contradiction in Silvia's char-
acter in her giving Proteus her picture. It looks like a yield-
ing to coquetry ; but as Julia does n't feel it to be so, we can
hardly complain. That Silvia says no word to Valentine
when he rescues her, when she recovers him, must be put
down to the same fault as the slurred reunion of -^gcon and
his wife in the Errors — Shakspere's dramatic j'outh — he
must have been now 28 — though the genuineness of this last
scene in the Two Gentlemen has been doubted by many crit-
ics, as well from its incidents as from its containing many
words used only in the Henry the Sixth plays. Note the
quick Italian turn for intrigue in Proteus, and in the Duke's
instant forming of the plan to entrap Valentine. Launce is
English of course, Stratford no doubt, and drawn from the
life. He seems to me a more truly original creation than
Bottom. I don't believe a Londoner could have made him.
That half-identity of doggy and horsey men with the animals
they own or tend, is to be seen still. The charming "Who
is Silvia?'* makes one thankful that Shaksj^ere's company
possessed a singer.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

jrsf^

ACT r.

Scene I, Vcivnn. An Open Phue.
Enter Valentine and Proteus.

Valentine. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus;
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wiis.
Were 't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at homo,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But since thou lov'st, love still and thrive therein,
Even as I would when I to love begin.

Proteus. Wilt thnu be gone.' Sweet Valentine, adii

44 TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest

Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel ;

Wish me partaker in thy happiness

When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,

If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,

For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

Valentine, And on a love-book pray for my success ?

Proteus, Upon some book I love I *11 pray for thee. ao

Valentine, That 's on some shallow. story of deep love, —
How young Leander crossed the Hellespont.

Proteus, That 's a deep story of a deeper love,
For he was more than over shoes in love.

Valentine, 'T is true ; for you are over boots in love.
And yet you never swum the Hellespont.

Proteus, Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots.

Valentine, No, I will not, for it boots thee not.

Proteus, What ?

Valentine, To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans.
Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment^s mirth
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: 31

If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won ;
However, but a folly bought with wit.
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Proteus, So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.

Valentine, So, by your circumstance, I fear you Ml prove.

Proteus, 'T is love you cavil at; I am not Love.

Valentine, Love is your master, for he masters you ;
And he that is so yoked by a fool, 4c

Me thinks, should not be chronicled for wise.

Proteus, Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

Valentine, And writers say, as the most forward bud

ACT I. SCENE /. 45

Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,

Even so by love the young and tender wit

Is turned to folly, blasting in the bud,

Losing his verdure even in the prime,

And all the fair effects of future hopes. 50

But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee

That art a votary to fond desire ? ^

Once more adieu ! my father at the road

Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.

Proteus, And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

Valentine. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine. 60

Proteus. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan !

Valentine, As much to you at home ! and so, farewell.

\_Exit.

Proteus, He after honour hunts, I after love;
He leaves his friends to dignify them more;
I leave myself, my friends and all, for love. —
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me,
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought.
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.

Enter Speed.

Speed. Sir Proteus, save you ! Saw you my master ? 7c

Proteus, But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan.

Speed, Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already.
And I have played the sheep in losing him.

Proteus, Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray.
An if the shepherd be a while away.

Speed. You conclude that my master is a shepherd 0^fc'^^
and I a sheep ?

^5 TiyO GEyTLEMEX OF VEROXA.

Proteus. I do.

Speed. Why, then my horns are his horns, whether I wake
or sleep.

Proteus. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.

Speed. This proves me still a sheep. 8c

Proteus. True, and thy master a shepherd.

Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.

Proteus. It shall go hard but I '11 prove it by another.

Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep
the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks
not me : therefore I am no sheep.

Proteus. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the
shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages fol-
lowcst thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee:
therefore thou art a sheep. 90

Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa.

Proteus. But, dost thou hear ? gavest thou my letter lo
Julia?

Speed. Ay, sir; I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a
liiced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mut-
ton, nothing for my labour.

J*rotcus. Here 's too small a pasture for such store of
nuiltons.

Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick
her. 100

Proteus. Nay, in that you are astray; 't were best pound
you. »

Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carry-
ing your letter.

Proteus. You mistake; I mean the pound, — a pinfold.

Speed. From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and over,
'T is threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover.

Proteus. lUit what said she?

Speed. [M/st /iodd/u^.] Ay.

Proteus. Nod — ay — why, that *s noddy. 'no

ACT I. SCENE I. 47

Speed. You mistook, sir: I say, she did nod, and you ask
me if slie did nod ; and I say ay.

Proteus, And that set together is noddy.

Speed, Now you have taken the pains to set it together,
take it for your pains.

Proteus. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter.

Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.

Proteus, Why, sir, how do you bear with me ?

Speed, Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly ; having nothing
but the word noddy for my pains. 120

Proteus, Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.

Speed, And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.

Proteus, Come, come, open the matter in brief; what said
she?

Speed, Open your purse, that the money and the matter
may be both at once delivered,

Proteus, Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she ?

Speed. Truly, sir, I think you '11 hardly win her.

Proteus, Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her ? 129

Speed, Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no,
not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being
so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she '11 prove
as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but
stones; for she 's as hard as steel.

Proteus, What, said she nothing ?

Speed, No, not so much as * Take this for thy pains.' To
testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me ; in
requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and
so, sir, I '11 commend you to my master. 139

Proteus, Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wrack.
Which cannot perish having thee aboard,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. — [Exit Speed,
I must go send some better messenger;
I fear my Julia would not deign my lines.
Receiving them from such a worthless ^o^\.. \E.3s.Vt,

4^ TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Scene II. The Same. Garden of Julians House,
Enter Julia and Lucetta.

yulia. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love?

Lucetta. Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully.

yulia. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen
'I'hal every day with parle encounter me.
In thy opinion which is worthiest love?

Lucetta, Please you repeat their names, I HI show my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.

Julia, What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour ?

Jjwetta, As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine 3 10

Hut, were I you, he never should be mine.

'Yu/iit, What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?

Lucetta, Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so.

yuiia. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?

I.ucctta, Lord, Lord ! to see what folly reigns in us !

yuiia. How now I what means this passion at his name?

Lucetta, Pardon, dear madam; 't is a passing shame
That 1. unworthy body as I am.
Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen.

yuiia, Whv not on Proteus, as of all the rest ? aa

LUiYtta, Then thus, — of many good 1 think him best

Jr>///,i. Your reason ?

/.u^rt/a, I Ikwc no other but a woman's reason ;
I think Inm so because 1 think him so,

yu,*ia. And wouldst thou have me cast mv love on him?

Jiit^Ytta, ,\\\ if you thought your love not cast away.

%Wt7» Whv ho» of all the rest* hath never mov'd me.

/$f,vuj. Yol lu\ of all iho rest* I think, best loves ye.

J^*w^^ His liulo sjH\iking shows his love but smalL

y*i,v/.M, Fire ihAt s closest kepi burns most of all. js

,l^,\/. r'jov do not love that do not show their love.

ACT /. SCENE n.

Liicetta, O, they love least that let men know their love.

Julia. I would I knew his mind.

Lucetta, Peruse this paper, madam.

yulia, * To Julia.' — Say, from whom t

Lucetta. That the contents will show.

yulia. Say, say, who gave it thee ?

Lucetta, Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Pro
tens.
He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray. 40

Julia. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines .^
'lo whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, 't is an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.
There, take the paper; see it be returned,
Or else return no more into my sight.

Lucetta. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.

Julia. Will ye be gone ?

Lucetta. That you may ruminate. \Exit,

Julia. And yet I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. so
It were a shame to call her back again
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
What fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view!
Since maids, in modesty, say no to that
Which they would have the profferer construe ay.
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently all humbled kiss the rod !
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, 60

When willingly I would have had her here !
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforced my heart to smile !
My penance is to call Lucetta back

7W0 GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

And ask rcinussion for my folly past —
What ho! Lucctta!

Reenter Lucetta.

I.mrtta. What would your ladyship ?

////////. Is 't near dinner-time?

l.iu'ttta, I would it were,

Thai you niij;ht kill your stomach on your meat,
And not upon your maid.

'Julut, What is 't that you took up so gingerly ? 70

i.mcttit. Nothing.

'fiilia. Why didst thou stoop, then?

l.imita. To take a paper up that I let fall.

l/u/iii. And is that j)aper nothing?

I.im'tta. Nothing concerning me.

jfiiliii. Then let it lie for those that it concerns.

/.Ntiiftt, Madam, it will not lie where it concern^
Unh'ss it have a false interpreter.

'/////</. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.

/.Uit'fftt, That 1 might sing it, madam, to a tune. go

(five me a note ; your ladyship can set.

yiiiiii. As littli^ l)y such toys as may be possible.
Mest sing it to the lune of* Light o' love.'

l.uuUtiu It is too heavy for so light a tune.

jfuiitu Heavy! belike it hath some burden then?

/.tinifa. Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it,

yuiiiu And why not you?

/Mcefttt. I cannot reach so high.

yulia. Tiet 's .see your song. — How now, minion I

iMcetta, Keep tune there still, so you wili sing It out;
And yet methinks I do not like this tune. 93

yulia. You do not ?

Lucetta. No, madam ; it is too sharp.

yulia. You, minion, are too saucy.

Luce ta. Nay, now you are too riat.

ACT I. SCENTS IT,

And mar the concord with too harsh a descant;
There wanteth but a mean to fill your song.

Julia. The mean is drowned with your unruly base.

Luceita. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus.

yulia. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation ! \2mrs the letter,

Oo get you gone, and let the papers lie; loo

You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Lucetta. She makes it strange ; but she would be best
pleas'd
To be so anger'd with another letter. \Exit

Julia. Nay, would I were so angered with the same !

hateful hands, to tear such loving words 1
Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey,
And kill the bees that yield it with your stings !

1 '11 kiss each several paper for amends.
Look, here is writ * kind Julia.' — Unkind Julia !

As in revenge of thy ingratitude, lu

I throw thy name against the bruising stones.

Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.

And here is writ ' love-wounded Proteus.' —

Poor wounded name ! my bosom as a bed

Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd;

And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.

But twice or thrice was * Proteus' written down.

Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away

Till I have found each letter in the letter.

Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear 120

Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock,

And throw it thence into the raging sea !

Lo ! here in one line is his name twice writ,

* Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,

To the sweet Julia;' that I '11 tear away, —

And yet I will not, sith so prettily

He couples it to his complaining naiwcs.

.;2 TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Thus will I fold them one upon another ;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

Re-enter Lucetta.

Lucetta. Madam, 130

Dinner is ready, and your father stays.

jfidia. Well, let us go.

Lucetta, What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here ?

yulia. If you respect them, best to take them up.

Lucetta, Nay, I was taken up for laying them down ;
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.

jfulia, I see you have a month's mind to them.

Lucetta, Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink, 139

yulia. Come, come ; will 't please you go ? \ExeunL

Scene III. The Same, Antonio's House.
Enter Antonio atid Panthino.

Antonio, Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?

Panthino, 'T was of his nephew Proteus, your son.

Antonio, Why, what of him ?

Panthino, He wonder'd that your lordship

AVould suffer him to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation,
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out :
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there ;
Some to discover islands far away;

Some to the studious universities. 10

For any or for all these exercises
He said that Proteus your son was meet,
And did request me to importune you
To let him spend his time no more at home.
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
Jn having known no travel in Wis yoviVVv.

ACT L SCENE III,

Ajitonio, Nor needst thou much importune me to that
Whereon this month I have bv^en hammering.
I have considered well his loss of time,

And how he cannot be a perfect man, 2-

Not^ being tried and tutor'd in the world.
Experience is by industry achieved
And perfected by the swift course of time.
Then tell me, whither were I best to send him ?

Panthino, I think your lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.

Antonio. I know it well.

Fanthino, 'T were good, I think, your lordship sent him
thither;
There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 30

Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen,
And be in eye of every exercise
Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.

Antonio, I like thy counsel ; well hast thou advis'd :
And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it
The execution of it shall make known.
Kven with the speediest expedition
I will dispatch him to the emperor's court.

Fanthino. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso
With other gentlemen of good esteem 40

Are journeying to salute the emperor
And to commend their service to his will.

Antonio. Good company ; with them shall Proteus go :
And — in good time ! — now will we break with him.

Enter Proteus.

Froteus. Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life !
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart ;
Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
O, that our fathers would applaud our lov^'s^

54 T^fyO GEXTLEMEN OF^ VERONA.

'I'o seal our happiness with their consents !

() Iicavcniy Julia ! 50

Antonio, i low now ! what letter are you reading there ?

rroteus. May 't please your lordship, 't is a word or two
Of commendations sent trom Valentine,
l-)cliver'd by a friend that came from him.

Antonio. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news.

Proteus. There is no news, my lord, but that he writes
1 low happily he lives, how well belov'd
And daily graced by the emperor;
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.

Antonio. And how stand you affected to his wish? eo

Proteus, As one relying on your lordship's will,
And not depending on his friendly wish.

Antonio. My will is something sorted with his wish.
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed ;
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
I am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus in the emperor's court.
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.
To-morrow be in readiness to go; 70

Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.

Proteus. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided;
Please you, deliberate a day or two.

Antonio. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee ;
No more of stay ! to-morrow thou must go. —
Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his expedition. \Exeunt Antonio and Panthino.

Proteus. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burn-
ings
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.

I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, s*

Lest he should take exceptions to my love;
And with the vantage of mine own excuse

ACT I. SCENE in. 55

Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,

And by and by a cloud takes all away !

Re-enter Panthino.
Panihino. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you.

He is in haste ; therefore, I pray you, go.
Proteus. Why, this it is : my heart accords thereto, 90

And yet a thousand times it answers no. \Exeunt.

Sfffii. Sir, your glove.

Valentine. Not mine ; ray gloves are Oh.^

'. Why, then, this may be yours, for this Is but od^
Vakntme. Hal let me see; ay, give It me, it 's mine-
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine I
Ah, Silvia, Silvia 1

ed. Madam Silvia I Madam Silvia 1
Valeniiiie. How now, sirrah?
Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Vaknline. Why, sir, who bade you call her ?
•^a/. Your worship, sir ; or else I mistook. „

ACT IL SCENE L

Valentine, Well, you '11 still be too forward.

Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow.

Valentine, Go to, sir ; tell me, do you know Madam Silvia ?

Speed, She that your worship loves ?

Valentine, Why, how know you that I am in love ?

Speed, Marry, by these special marks : first, you have learn-
ed, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a malcontent;
10 relish a love-song, like a robin-redbreast; to walk alone,
like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy
that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that
had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to
watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a
beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed,
to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of
the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner;
when you looked sadly, it was for want of money : and now
you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on
you, I can hardly think you my master.

Valentine, Are all these things perceived in me?

Speed, They are all perceived without ye. sc

Valentine, Without me? they cannot.

Speed. Without you ? nay, that 's certain, for, without you
were so simple, none else would; but you are so without
these follies, that these follies are within you and shine
through you like the water in an urinal, that not an eye that
sees you but is a physician to comment on your malady.

Valentine, But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?

Speed. She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper?

Valentine, Hast thou observed that? even she, I mean.

Speed, Why, sir, I know her not. 40

Valentine. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet knowest her not?

Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir?

Valentine. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured.

Speed, Sir, I know that well enough.

58 TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Valentine. What dost ihou know?

Speed, That she is not so fair as, of you, well favoured.

Valentine, I mean that her beauty is exquisite, but her fa-
vour infinite.

Speed, That 's because the one is painted and the other
out of all count. 5"

Valentine. How painted? and how out of count?

Speed, Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fiair, that no
man counts of her beauty.

Valentine, How esteemest thou me? I account of her
beauty.

Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.

Valentine, How long hath she been deformed?

Speed. Ever since you loved her.

Valentine. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and still
I see her beautiful. 6i

Speed, If you love her, you cannot see her.

Valentine, Why?

Speed, Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes,
or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have
when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered!

Valentine. What should I see then?

Speed, Your own present folly and her passing deformity;
for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose, and
you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. 70

Valentine, Belike, boy, then, you are in love : for last morn-
ing you could not see to wipe my shoes.

Speed. True, sir, I was in love with my bed. I thank you,
you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to
chide you for yours.

Valentine, In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

Speed. I would you were set, so your afrection would cease.

Valentine, Last night she enjoined me to write some lines
to one she loves.

Sjf^ed And have you? . 80

ACT II. SCENE L

Valentine, I have.

Speed, Are they not lamely writ?

Valentine, No, boy, but as well as I can do them. — Peace!
here she comes.

Speed, [Aside] O excellent motion ! O exceeding puppet !
Now will he interpret to her.

Enter Silvia.

Valentine, Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows.

Speed, [Aside] O, give ye good even ! here 's a million of
manners. 89

Silvia, Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.

Speed. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives
it him.

Valentine, As you enjoined me, I have wTit your letter
Unto the secret nameless friend of 3^ours;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in
But for my duty to your ladyship.

Silvia, I thank you, gentle servant; 't is very clerkly done.

Valentine, Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For, being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random, very doubtfully. loa

Silvia. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

Valentine, No, madam ; so it stead you, I will write.
Please you command, a thousand times as much ;
And yet —

Silvia. A pretty period ! Well, I guess the sequel ;
And yet I will not name it; — and yet I care not; —
And yet take this again ; — and yet I thank you,
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

Speed, [Aside] And yet you will ; and yet another yet.

Valentine. What means your ladyship? do you not like it?

Silvia. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ, m

But since unwillingly, take them again.
Nay, take them.

So TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Valentine, Madam, they are for you.

Silvia. Ay, ay: you writ them, sir, at my request,
But I will none of them ; they are for you.
I would have had them writ more movingly.

Valentine, Please you, I Ul write your ladyship another.

Silvia. And when it 's writ, for my sake read it over.
And if it please you, so ; if not, why, so. 120

Valentine. If it please me, madam, what then?

Silvia, Why, if it please you, take it for your labour.
And so, good morrow, servant. \Exit,

Speed, O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible.
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple!
My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device! was there ever heard a better,
That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the
letter?

Valentine, How now, sir? what are you reasoning with
yourself? i3«

Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 't is you that have the reason.

Valentine, To do what?

Speed, To be a spokesman for Madam Silvia.

Valentine. To whom ?

Speed, To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure.

Valentine. What figure?

Speed, By a letter, I should say.

Valentine. Why, she hath not writ to me ?

Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to
yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? 141

Valentine, No, believe me.

Speed, No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you per-
ceive her earnest?

Valentine, She gave me none, except an angry word.

Speed, Why, she hath given you a letter.

JVa/f/i/Me. That 's the letter I writ to her friend.

ACT IL SCENE II. 6 1

Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end.

Valentine. I would it were no worse.

Speed. I '11 warrant you, 't is as well:

For often have you writ to her, and she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; 150

Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind dis-
cover.
Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. —
All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. —
Why muse you, sir? 't is dinner-time.

Valentine. I have dined.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love
can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my vict-
uals and would fain have meat. O, be not like your mis-
tress ! be moved, be moved. \Exeunt.

Scene II. Verona. Julia's House.
Enter Proteus and Julia.

Proteus. Have patience, gentle Julia.

Julia, I must, where is no remedy.

Proteus. When possibly I can, I will return.

Julia. If you turn not, you will return the sooner.
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. \Giving a ring.

Proteus. Why, then, we '11 make exchange ; here, take you
this.

Julia. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.

Proteus. Here is my' hand for my true constancy;
And when that hour o'erslips me in the day
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, i^

The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness !
My father stays my coming; answer not;
The tide is now: — nay, not thy tide of tears;
That tide will stay me longer than I «aVvo\A^.

62 TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Julia, farewell !— \Extt yulick

What, gone without a word?
Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak ;
For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it

Enter Panthino.

Panthino. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
Proteus. Go ; I come, I come. — 20

Alas I this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. \Exeunt.

Scene III. The Same, A Street,

Enter Launce, leading a dog,

Laiince, Nay, 't will be this hour ere I have done weeping ;^^
all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have re-
ceived my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going
with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab my
dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives ; my mother weep-
ing, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling,
our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great per-
plexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He
is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him
than a dog. A Jew would have wept to have seen our part-
ing; why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept her-
self blind at my parting. Nay, I Ml show you the manner of
it. This shoe is my father;— no, this left shoe is my father;
-no, no, this left shoe is my mother; — nay, that cannot be
so neither ; — yes, it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole.
This shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my
father. A vengeance on 't! there 't is: now, sir, this staff is
my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small
as a wand; this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog; — no,
the dog is himself, and I am the dog — O I the dog is me, and
I am myself; ay, si>, so. Now come I to my father: Father,
Yoxn bJessJj)^. Now should not the shoe speak a word for

/ ; /

ACT //. SCENE III, J Jy 63

weeping: now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on.
Now come I to my mother ; — O, that she could speak now
like an old woman ! Well, I kiss her ; why, there 't is ; here 's
my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sis-
ter; mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while
sheds not a tear nor speaks a word ; but see how I lay the
dust with my tears. 29

£»fer Panthino.

Panthino, Launce, away, away, aboard ! thy master is
shipped and thou art to post after with oars. What 's the
matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! you '11 lose the
tide, if you tarry any longer.

Launce, It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the
unkindest tied that ever any man tied.

Panthino, What 's the unkindest tide ?

Launce, Why, he that 's tied here, Crab, my dog.

Panthino. Tut, man, I mean thou 'It lose the flood, and, in
losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage,
lose thy master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service,
and, in losing thy service, — why dost thou stop my mouth ?

Launce, For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. 42

Panthino, Where should I lose my tongue?

Launce, In thy tale.

Panthino, In thy tail !

Launce, Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and
the service, and the tied ! W^hy, man, if the river were dry,
I am able to fill it with my tears ; if the wind were down, I
could drive the boat with my sighs.

Panthino, Come, come away, man ; I was sent to call thee.

Launce, Sir, call me what thou darest. si

Panthino, Wilt thou go ?

Launce, Well, I will go. \Exeunt.

64 TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Scene IV. Milan, The Duk^s Palace,
Enter Silvia, Valentine, Thurio, and Speed.

Silvia. Servant !

Valentine, Mistress?

Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.

Valentine. Ay, boy, it 's for love.

Speed. Not of you.

Valentine. Of my mistress, then.

Speed. 'T were good you knocked him. \Exit,

Silvia. Servant, you are sad.

Valentine. Indeed, madam, I seem so.

Ihurio. Seem you that you are not t ic

Valentine. Haply I do.

Thurio. So do counterfeits.

Valentine. So do you.

Thurio. What seem I that I am not 1

Valentine. Wise.

Thurio. What instance of the contrary ?

Valentine. Your folly.

Thurio. And how quote you my folly?

Valentine. I quote it in your jerkin.

Thurio. My jerkin is a doublet. 20

Valentine. Well, then, I '11 double your folly.

Thurio. How?

Silvia. What, angry. Sir Thurio ! do you change colour?

Valentine, Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chame-
leon.

Thurio, That hath more mind to feed on your blood than
live in your air.

Valentine, You have said, sir.

Thurio. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.

Valentine. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you
begin. 3,

ACT II. SCENE IV, 6.5

Silvia, A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly
shot off.

Valentine, 'T is indeed, madam ; we thank the giver.

Silvia. Who is that, servant ?

Valentine. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir
Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and
spends what he borrows kindly in your company.

Thurio, Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall
make your wit bankrupt. 40

Valentine. I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of
words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers,
for it appears, by their bare liveries, that they live by your
bare words.

Silvia, No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my
father.

Enter Duke.

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset —
Sir Valentine, your father 's in good health ;
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news ?

Valentine, My lord, I will be thankful 50

To any happy messenger from thence.

Duke. Know ye Don Antonio, your countr}'man ?

Valentine, Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
I'o be of worth and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.

Duke. Hath he not a son ?

Valentine, Ay, my good lord ; a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke. You know him well }

Valentine. I know him as myself; for from our infancy
We have conversed and spent our hours together : 61

And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To clothe mine age with angel-Uk^ ^exl^Olxow^

66 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that 's his name,

Made use and fair advantage of his days ;

His years but young, but his experience old;

His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;

And, in a word — for far behind his worth

Comes all the praises that I now bestow — 70

He is complete in feature and in mind

With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good,
He is as worthy for an empress' love
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates,
And here he means to spend his time awhile.
I think 't is no unwelcome news to you.

Valentine, Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he.

Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth. — Si
Silvia, I speak to you, — and you, sir Thurio. —
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it.
I will send him hither to you presently. \^Exit

Valentine. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

Silvia. Belike that now she hath enfranchis'd them,
Upon some other pawn for fealty. 89

Valentine. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.

Silvia. Nay, then he should be blind : and, being blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you }

Valentine. Why, lady. Love hath twenty pair of eyes.

Thurio. They say that Love hath not an eye at all.

Valentine. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself;
Upon a homely object Love can wink.

Silvia. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.

{Exit Thurio.

ACT II. SCENE IP'. 67

jEnfer Proteus.

Valentine. Welcome, dear Proteus ! — Mistress, I beseech
you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.

Silvia. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, 100
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.

Valentine. Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.

Silvia. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.

Proteus. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.

Valentine. Leave off discourse of disability. —
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.

Proteus. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.

Silvia. And duty never yet did want his meed. no

Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.

Proteus. I '11 die on him that says so but yourself.

Silvia. That you are welcome ?

Proteus. That you are worthless.

Re-enter Thurio.

Tliurio. Madam, my lord your father would speak with

you.
Silvia. I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio,
Go with me. — Once more, new servant, welcome.
I '11 leave you to confer of home affairs ;
When you have done, we look to hear from you.

Proteus. We '11 both attend upon your ladyship. 119

\^Exeunt Silvia and Thurio.
Valentine. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came }
Proteus. Your friends are well and have them much com-
mended.
Valentine. And how do yours ?
Proteus. I k{\. \}cv^^\ •a^'vcvV^-^^sx.

68 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Valentine. How does your lady ? and how thrives your
love?

Proteus. My tales of love were wont to weary you ;
I know you joy not in a love-discourse.

Valentine, Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now.
I have done penance for contemning Love,
Whose high imperious thoughts have punished me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans.
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; is*

For in revenge of my contempt of love.
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.
O gentle Proteus, Love 's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me as I confess
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his service no such joy on earth.
Now no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep.
Upon the very naked name of love. 140

Proteus. Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye.
Was this the idol that you worship so t

Valentine. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?

Proteus. No ; but she is an earthly paragon.

Valentine. Call her divine.

Proteus. I will not flatter her.

Valentine. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

Proteus. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,
And I must minister the like to you.

Valentine. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality, 150

Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.

Proteus. Except my mistress.

Valentine. Sweet, except not any;

Except thou wilt except against my love.

Proteus. Have I not reason to prefer mine own?

ACT //. SCENE IV, 69

Valentine. And I will help thee to prefer her too;
She shall be dignified with this high honour, —
To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss.
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, • x6o

And make rough winter everlastingly.

Proteus, Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this ?

Valentine, Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing
To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone.

Proteus, Then let her alone.

Valentine. Not for the world! Why, man, she is mine own,
And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl.
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, 170

Because thou see'st me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along, and I must after.
For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.

Proteus, But she loves you ?

Valentine. Ay, and we are betroth'd : nay, more, our mar-
riage-hour.
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determin'd of; how I must climb her window.
The ladder made of cords, and all the means iSo

Plotted and greed on for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these aflairs to aid me with thy counsel.

Proteus, Go on before; I shall inquire you forth.
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use,
And then I '11 presently attend yow.

TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Valentine, Will you make haste ?

Proteus, I will. — \Exii Valentine.

Even as one heat another heat expels, 190

Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me reasonless to reason thus ?
She is fair; and so is Julia that I love —
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd ;
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,
Bears no impression of the thing it was. 200

Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold.
And that I love him not as I was wont.
O, but I love his lady too too much,
And that 's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice,
That thus without advice begin to love her !
'T is but her picture I have yet beheld.
And that hath dazzled my reason's light;
But when I look on her perfections.

There is no reason but 1 shall be blind. 310

If I can check my erring love, I will;
If not, to compass her I '11 use my skill. \Exit,

Scene V. The Sa?ne, A Street.
Enter Speed and Launce severally.

Speed. Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan I
Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not
welcome. I reckon this always, — that a man is never un-
done till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a place till
some certain shot be paid and the hostess say welcome.
Speed. Come on, you madcap, I '11 to the alehouse with you

ACT 11. SCENE V,

presently, where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have
five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part
with Madam Julia?

Laufue, Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted
very fairly in jest. ti

Speed, But shall she marry him?

Launce, No.

Speed, How then ? shall he marry her ?

Launce, No, neither.

Speed, What, are they broken ?

Launce, No, they are both as whole as a fish.

Speed, Why, then, how stands the matter with them ?

Launce, Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her. ac

Speed, What an ass art thou ! I understand thee not.

Launce, What a block art thou, that thou canst not 1 My
staff understands me.

Speed, What thou sayest ?

L.aunce, Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I '11 but lean,
and my staff understands me.

Speed, It stands under thee, indeed.

Launce, Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.

Speed, But tell me true, will 't be a match?

Launce, Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will ; if he say no, it
will ; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will. 31

Speed, The conclusion is then that it will.

Launce, Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but
by a parable.

Speed, T is well that I get it so. But, Launce, how sayest
thou, that my master is become a notable lover ?

Launce, I never knew him otherwise.

Speed, Than how?

Launce, A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be.

Speed, Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me. *?-

Launee, Why, fool, I meant not U\^^\ \ vi\^'2ccv\.^N^\^'2^^55vs:^'

72 y^^O GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Speed, I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.

Launce, Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn him-
self in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse ; if not,
thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a
Christian.

Speed, Why.?

Launce, Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as
to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go ?

Speed, At thy service. \ExeunL

Scene VI. The Same, J7ie Duke's Falac&.}\j^ ^

Enter Proteus. >r i^*' ('^

Proteus, To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ;
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn ;
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ;
And even that power which gave n)e first my oath
Provokes me to this threefold perjury;
Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear.

sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinn'd.
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it !
At first I did adore a twinkling star.

But now I worship a celestial sun. lo

Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken,

And he wants wit that wants resolved will

To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.

Fie, fie, unreverend tongue ! to call her bad,

Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred

With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths.

1 cannot leave to love, and yet I do;

But there I leave to love where I should love.

Julia I lose and Valentine I lose:

If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; m

If I lose them, thus find I by their loss

For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvia.

ACT II, SCENE VII 73

I to myself am clearer than a friend,

For love is still most precious in itself;

And Silvia — witness Heaven, that made hsr fair ! —

Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Julia is alive.

Remembering that my love to her is dead ;

And Valentine I '11 hold an enemy,

Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. 70

I cannot now prove constant to myself,

Without some treachery usVl to Valentine.

This night he meaneth with a corded ladder

To climb celestial Silvia's cnamber-window.

Myself in counsel, his competitor.

Now presently I '11 give her father notice

Of their disguising and pretended flight,

Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine,

For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter;

But, Valentine being gone, I '11 quickly cross 40

By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. —

Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift.

As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift ! [Exit

Scene VII. Verona, yulia^s House.
Enter Julia and Lucetta.
yulia. Counsel, Llicetta; gentle girl, assist me;

And even in kind love I do conjure thee,

Who art the table wherein all my thoughts

Are visibly character'd and engrav'd,

To lesson me, and tell me some good mean

How, with my honour, I may undertake

A journey to my loving Proteus.
Lucetta, Alas, the way is wearisome and long I
yulia, A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary

To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; 10

Much less shall she that hath Love's \\\\"\^s\.o^^>

TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VEKONA,

And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus.

Lucetta. Better forbear till Proteus make return.

yulia, O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food }
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. ao

Lucetta. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,
But qualify the fire's extreme rage.
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

yulia. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides.
Thou know'st, being stoppVl, impatiently doth rage :
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones.
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, 30

And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me 'go, and hinder not my course.
I '11 be as patient as a gentle stream.
And make a pastime of each weary step.
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I Ml rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Lucetta. But in what habit will you go along?

yulia. Not like a woman ; for I would prevent 40

The loose encounters of lascivious men.
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds ; -^ ^ t

As may beseem some well-reputed page. '' " • ' '^ * ^ ■ *'^

Lucetta. Why, then, your TacTysliTp must cut your hair.

Julia. No, girl; I '11 knit it up in silken strings
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots.

ACT II. SCENE VIL 75

To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.

Lucetta, What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?

yulia. That fits as well as ' Tell me, good my lord, 50

What compass will you wear your farthingale ?*
Why even what fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta.

Luce tta, You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.

yulia. Out, out, Lucetta! that will T-x;^ ill-favn nrM. ,

Lucetta, A round hose, madam, now ^s not worth a pin. _
Unless y ou have a codpiece to stick pins on. JLjux^a^^^^

yulia. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have >U^V*-t-t^

What thou think'st meet and is most mannerly.
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me
For undertaking so unstaid a journey? 60

I fear me it will make me scandaliz'd.

Lucetta. If you think so, then stay at home and go not.

yulia. Nay, that I will not.

Lucetta, Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey when you come,
No matter who 's displeas'd when you are gone.
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.

yulia. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear.
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances of infinite of love, 70

Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.

Lucetta. All these are servants to deceitful men.

yulia. Base men, that use them to so base effect !
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth ;
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles,
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart.
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.

Lucetta. Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him !

yulia. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wron^ <»»
To bear a hard opinion of his truth.

71C0 OEXTLEMEiV OF VERONA.

Only deserve my love by loving him;
And presently go with nie to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing journey.
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
fliy goods, my lands, my reputation ;
Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence.
Come, answer not, but to it presently I
I am impatient of my tarriance.

\Mxeunt.

ACT III.

ScF.NE I. Milan. The Duke's Palaee.
Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus.

Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave. I pray, awhile ;
We have some secrets lo confer about. — \Kxit Tlim

Now. tell me. Proteus, what 's your will with me ?

ProUus. My gracious lord, that which I would cliscovt-r
The law of friendship bids me to conceal ;
But when I call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on lo utter thnt
Which else no worldly good sliould draw from nie.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valenline, my friend.
This night intends lo sienl away your daughtci ;
Mj;se!tsni Qpe macie privy to the plot.

jS TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

I know you have determined to bestow her

On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates;

And should she thus be stolen away from you,

It would be much vexation to your age.

Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose

To cross my friend in his intended drift

Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

A pack of sorrows which would press you down, 20

Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.

Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply when they have judg'd me fast asleep,
And oftentimes have purposed to forbid
Sir Valentine her company and my court ;
But fearing lest my jealous aim might err.
And so unworthily disgrace the man,

A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd, 30

I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find
That which thvself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept ;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.

Proteus, Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean
How he her chamber-window will ascend.
And with a corded ladder fetch her down; 40

For which the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently,
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly
That my discovery be not aimed at ;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend.
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

ACT III. SCENE L 79

Duke, Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this. 49

Proteus, Adieu, my lord ; Sir Valentine is coming, \Exit

Enter Valentine.

Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ?

Valentine. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.

Duke, Be they of much import.'*

Valentine, The tenour of them doth but signify
My health and happy being at your court.

Duke, Nay then, no matter ; stay with me awhile.
I am to break with thee of some affairs
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 60

'T is not unknown to thee that I have sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter.

Valentine. I know it well, my Lord, and, sure, the match
Were rich and honourable ; besides, the gentlemon
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?

Duke, No, trust me ; she is peevish, sullen, froward.
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my child 7c

Nor fearing me as if I were her father:
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers.
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her childlike duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife.
And turn her out to who will take her in.
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.

Valetitine, What would your grace hav^ vcv^ \5^ ^<5v ycv'^^'^-

8o TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Duke. There is a lady of Verona here 8t

Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence.
Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor —
For long agone I have forgot to court ;
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd —
How and which way I may bestow myself
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Valentine, Win her with gifts, if she respect not words.
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind 90

' More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
V ^y> Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

y:\ c ^ Valentine, A woman sometimes scorns what best contents

t^ \ Send her another; never give her o'er.

For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 't is not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you.
If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone ;
For why, the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ;
For *get you gone,' she doth not mean *away!'
Flatter and praise, conimend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
JiThat man that hath a^tonjgue^^ I say^ is no m^q ^
//if with his^ tongue he cannot wln^a w^j^.^^.

^Suke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth,
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.

Valentine. Why, then, I would resort to her by night. nc

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys' kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.

Valentine, What lets but one may enter at her window?

J?u^^. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground.

zoo

ACT III. SCENE!, 8 1

And built so shelving that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.

Valentine. Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords,
To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks,
AVould serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it. 120

Duke, Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.

Valentine, When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.

Duke, This very night; for Love is like a child,
That longs for every thing that he can come by.

Valentine, By seven o'clock I '11 get you such a ladder.

Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone.
How shall I best convey the ladder thither?

Valentine, It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak that is of any length. 130

Duke, A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn?

Valentine. Ay, my good lord.

Duke, Then let me see thy cloak ;

I '11 get me one of such another length.

Valentine, Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.

Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
What letter is this same ? What 's here ? ' To Silvia P
And here an engine fit for my proceeding.
I '11 be so bold to break the seal for once.
[Reads] * My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, 14c
And slaves they are to me that send them flying.

Oy could their master come and go as lightly,
Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying!

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them;
While /, their king, that hither them importune.

Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless* d tlicm.
Because myself do want my servants' fortune,

J curse myself, for they are sent by me^

82 TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

That they should harbour where their iord would be?
What 's here? 191

' Silvia^ this night I will enfranchise thfeJ
'T is so; and here 's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaethon, — for thou art Merops' son, —
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world?
Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee?
Go, base intruder! overweening slave!
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates,
And think my patience, more than thy desert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence. 16c

Thank me for this more than for all the favours
Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories
Longer than swiftest expedition
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven ! my wrath shall fiir exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter or thyself.
Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse;
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. [Exit

Valentine. And why rot death rather than living to*ment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself, 17*

And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her
Is self from self, — a deadly banishment!
What Tight is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
An3 feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Excejjt I be by Silvia in the night,
TRere is no music in the nightingale;

Unless I look on Silvia in the day, ifti

There is no day for me to look upon ;
She fs my essence, and I leave to be.
If I be not by her fair influence

ACT II L SCENE! 83

Fostered, illumin^d^ cherish'c^ , Ve\\\ alivp. y

I ^y not ^ ^?nth, ^^ fly thifi HrnHl)- HnnnL' / r ^

Tarry I here, I but attend on death :
Bu T, tly 1 hence, 1 fly away from life.

Enter Proteus and Launce.

Proteus, Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.

Launce, So ho, so ho !

Proteus, What seest ihou? ^^

Launce, Him we go to find; there *s not a hair on 's head
but 't is a Valentine.

Proteus, Valentine?

Valentine, No.

Proteus, Who then.** his spirit?

Valentine, Neither.

Proteus, What then?

Valentine, Nothing.

Launce, Can nothing speak? — Master, shall I strike?

Proteus, Who wouldst thou strike? 200

Launce, Nothing.

Proteus, Villain, forbear.

Launce, Why, sir, I '11 strike nothing ; I pray you, —

Proteus. Sirrah, I say, forbear. — Friend Valentine, a word.

Valentine, My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news.
So much of bad already hath possessed them.

Proteus, Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad.

Valentine. Is Silvia dead ?

Proteus, No, Valentine. aia

Valentine, No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia. —
Hath she forsworn me?

Proteus, No, Va 1 e n t i n e .

Valentine. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. —
What is your news?

Launce, Sir, there is a proclamation ihaV^ow ^x^N-acwv^^^-

84 TiVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Proteus, That lliou art banished — O, thai 's the news! —
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.

Valentine. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit. a^^

Doth Silvia know that I am banished?

Proteus, Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom —
Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force —
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears.
Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, v.'hose whiteness so became them
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up.
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, 23^

Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire;
]>ut Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chafd him so.
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there.

Valentine. No more, unless the next word that thou speak'st
Have some malignant power upon my life;
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour. 24.^

Proteus. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help..
And study help for that which thou lament'st. y

■Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. / v/{fec-vtA^ ^ -
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; 'K^i.Jlii/fr\J^ ^
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that.
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
AVhich, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. asc

The time now serves not to expostulate;

ACT III. SCENE I. SS

Come, I '11 convey thee through the city gate,
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love-affairs.
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me !

Valenti7ie. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate.

Proteus, Go, sirrah, find him out. — Come, Valentine.

Valentine. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! 260

\Exit Valentine and Proteus,

Launce, I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit
to think my master is a kind of a knave; but that 's all one,
if he but one knave. He lives not now that knows me to be
in love, yet I am in love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck
that from me; nor who 't is I love; and yet *t is a woman ;
but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 't is a milk-
maid ; yet 't is not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 't is
a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for wages.
She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is much
in a bare Christian. [Pulling out a paper.^ Here is a cate-
log of her condition. * Imprimis: She can fetch and carry,^
Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but
only carry; therefore is she better than a jade. ''Item: She
can milk ;^ look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean

hands.

Enter Speed.

Speed. How now, Signior T.aunce! what news with your
mastership.

Launce. With my master's ship ? why, it is at sea.

Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What
news, then, in your paper ? aSo

Launce. The blackest news that ever thou heardest.

Speed. Why, man, how black ?

Launce. Why, as black as ink.

Speed. Let me read them.

86 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head ! thou canst not read.

Speed, Thou liest ; I can.

Launce. I will try thee. Tell me this : who begot thee?

Speed, Marry, the son of my grandfather.

Launce, O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grand-
mother; this proves that thou canst not read. 290

Speed, Come, fool, come ; try me in thy paper.

Launce, There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

Speed, [Reads] ''Imprimis: She can milk,*

Launce. Ay, that she can.

Speed. * Item : She brew^ good ale,*

Launce, And thereof comes the proverb, Blessing of your
heart, you brew good ale.

Speed. * Item: She can sew*

Launce, That *s as much as to say. Can she so ?

Speed. ''Item: She can knit* 300

Launce. What need a man care for a stock with a wench,
when she can knit him a stock.

Speed. ' Item: She can wash and scour*

Launce. A special virtue ; for then she need not be wash- '
ed and scoured.

Speed. ''Item: She can spin*

Launce, Then may I set the world on wheels, when she
can spin for her living.

Speed. * Item : She hath many nameless virtues* 30a

Launce, That *s as much as to say, bastard virtues, that, in-
deed, know not their fathers and therefore have no names.

Speed. * Here follow her vices*

Launce, Close at the heels of her virtues.

Speed. ^ Item: She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of
her breath*

Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast.
Read on.

Speed. * Item: She hath a sweet mouth*
Zaun^e. That makes amends for her sour breath.

ACT III. SCENE I. 87

Speed. * Item: She doth talk in her sleep! 320

Launce, It *s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her
talk.

Speed. ^ Item: She is slow in words. ^

Launce, O villain, that set this down among her vices !
To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue ; I pray thee,
out with *t, and place it for her chief virtue.

Speed. ^Item: She is proud .^

Launce, Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and can-
not be ta'en from her.

Speed. ^ Item: She hath no teeth. ^ 330

Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts.

Speed. ^Item: She is curst.^

Launce, Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.

Speed. * Item : She will often praise her liquor.^

Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall : if she will not, I
will ; for good things should be praised.

Speed. ^Item: She is too liberal.^

Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for that 's writ down
she is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that I '11 keep
shut : now, of another thing she may, and that I cannot help.
Well, proceed. 341

Speed. * Item : She hath more hair than wit, and more faults
than hairs, and more wealth than faults.^

Launce. Stop there ; I Ml have her : she was mine, and not
mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once
more.

Speed. * Item : She hath more hair than wit^ —

Launce. More hair than wit ? It may be ; I '11 prove it.
The cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more
than the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the
wit, for the greater hides the less. What 's next ? 351

Speed. * And more faults than hairs ^ —

Launce. That 's monstrous ; O, that that were out!

Speed. ^ And more wealth than faults.^

88 TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Launce, Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well,
I '11 have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is impos-
sible, —

Speed. What then?

Launce, Why, then will I tell thee — that thy master stays
for thee at the North-gate. 360

Speed, For me?

Launce, For thee ! ay, who art thou ? he hath stayed for a
better man than thee.

Speed, And must I go to him ?

Launce, Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so
long that going will scarce serve the turn.

Speed, Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love-
letters ! [Exit,

Launce, Now will he be swinged for reading my letter, — an
unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into secrets ! I ll
after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. [Exit

Scene II. The Same, The Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke and Thurio.

Duke, Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,
Now Valentine is banished from her sight.

Thurio, Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworn my company and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke, This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts.
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. — w

Enter Proteus.

How now. Sir Proteus ! Is your countryman
According to our proclamation gone ?

ACT II L SCENE II, 89

Proteus. Gone, my good lord.

Duke, My daughter takes his going grievously.

Proteus, A little time, my lord, will kill that grie£

Duke. So I believe, but Thurio thinks not so.
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee —
For thou hast shown some sign of good desert —
Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Proteus. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace »

Let me not live to look upon your grace.

Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect
The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter.

Proteus. I do, my lord.

Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.

Proteus. She did, my lord, when Valentine' was here.

Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so.
What might we do to make the girl forget
The love of Valentine and love Sir Thurio } 30

Proteus. The best way is to slander Valentine

»- - ■' —

With falsehood, cowardice, and poor des cent.
Three things that women highly hold in hate.

Duke. Ay, but she '11 think that it is spoke in hate.

Proteus. Ay, if his enemy deliver it;
Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.

Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him.

Proteus. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do;
'T is an ill office for a gentleman, 40

Especially against his very friend.

Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage him.
Your slander never can endamage him ;
Therefore the office is indifferent.
Being entreated to it by your friend.

Proteus. You have prevailed, my lord. If I can do it
By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,

TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

She shall not long continue love to him.

But say this weed her love from Valentine,

It follows not that iihe will love Sir Thurio. 50

Thurio. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him.
Lest it should ravel and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me ;
Which must be done by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.

Duke, An d, Proteus, we dare trust yon in this kinf^^
Because we knpw, 91) V^lgpti|i^\«^ report, , ,
You are already Love 's firm votary ^
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon thfs warrant sh'alF you have access 60

Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy.
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you.
Where you may temper her by your persuasion
To hate young Valentine and love my friend.

Proteus, As much as I can do, I will effect. —
But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough ;
You must lay lime to tangle her desires
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. 70

Duke. Ay,
Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

Proteus. Say that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart.
Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears
Moist it again, and frame some feeling line
That may discover such integrity;
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews.
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones.
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 80

Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
After your dire-lamenting elegies.

ACT HI. SCENE II.

Visit by night your lady's chamber- window
With some sweet consort; to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump : the night's dciid silence
Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Duke, This discipline shows thou hast been in love.

Thurio. And thy advice this night I '11 put in practice.
Tlierefore, sweet Profeus, my direct ion-giver, go

Let us into the city presently
To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in musia
I have a sonnet that will serve the turn
To give the onset to thy good advice.

Duke. About it, gentlemen!

Proteus. We 'II wait upon your grace till after supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings.
■ Duke. Even now about it ! I will pardon you. \Exeunt.

AC 7' IP\ SCENE L 93

Speed. Sir, we are undone ; these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.
Valentine, My friends, —

1 Outlaw. That 's not so, sir; we are your enemies.

2 Outlaw. Peace, we '11 hear him.

3 Outlaw. Ay, by my beard, will we, for he *s a proper man.
Valentine. Then know that I have little wealth to lose, n

A man I am cross'd with adversity;

My riches are these poor habiliments,

Of which if you should here disfurnish me,

You take the sum and substance that I have.

2 Outlaw. Whither travel you }
Valentine. To Verona.

I Outlaw. Whence came you ?
Valentine. From Milan.

3 Outlaw. Have you long sojourned there 1 lo
Valentine. Some sixteen months, and longer might have

stayed,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

1 Outlaw. What, were you banished thence t
Valentine. I was.

2 Outlaw. For what offence ?

Valentine. For that which now torments me to rehearse.
I kiird a man, whose death I much repent;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight.
Without false vantage or base treachery.

1 Outlaw. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. 30
But were you banished for so small a fault?

Valentine. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.

2 Outlaw. Have you the tongues ?

Valentine. My youthful travel therein made me happy.
Or else I often had been miserable.

3 Outlaw. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar,
This fellow were a king for our wild faction !

I Outlaw. We '11 have him. — Sir, a word.

94 T'f^'O GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Speed. Master, be one of them ; it 's an honourable kind
of thievery. 4©

Valentine, Peace, villain !

2 Outlaw, Tell us this : have you any thing to take to ?
Valentine, Nothing but my fortune.

3 Outlaw, Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth

Thrust from the company of awful men.
Myself was from Verona banished
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.

2 Outlaw. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, 5°

Who, in my mood, I stabbVl unto the heart.

1 Outlaw. And I for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose — for we cite our fiiults,

That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives ;
And partly, seeing you are beautified
With goodly shape, and by your own report
A linguist, and a man of such perfection
As we do in our quality much want —

2 Outlaw, Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. 6o
Are you content to be our general ?

To make a virtue of necessity

And live, as we do, in this wilderness?

3 Outlaw. What say'st thou ? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say ay, and be the captain of us all.

We '11 do thee homage, and be ruVd by thee,
Love thee as our commander and our king.

1 Outlaw. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

2 Outlaw. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have

offered.
Valentine. I take your offer and will live with you, 70

Provided that you do no outrages
On si))y women or poor passengers.

ACT IV. SCEXE II.

3 Outlaw, No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we '11 bring thee to our crews,
And show thee all the treasure we have got,
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [^Exeunt

Scene II. Milan, The Court of the Palace,

Enter Proteus.

Proteus. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
1 have access my own love to prefer ;
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her.
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
W'^^^n tl7 hfr heavity^ I -PfH^m^ml my vows.
She bids me think how I have been forsworn m

In breaking jaith wit h JiHTa w honT TTq^ ^
And notwithstanding all her sudden quips,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still. —
But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window,
And give some evening music to her ear.

Enter Thurio and Musicians.

Thurio, How, now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us ?

Proteus. Ay, gentle Thurio, for you know that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go. 20

Thurio, Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.

Proteus, Sir, but I do ; or else I would be hence.

Thurio. V^hol Silvia?

Proteus. Ay, Silvia; — for your sake.

Thurio. I thank you for your own. — Now^^e.vsX.V^xw^'^^
Let's tune, and to it lustily awWAe.

TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Enter ^ at a distance^ Host, and Julia in boy's clothes.

Host, Now, my young guest, methinks you 're allicholly.
I pray you, why is it ?

jfulia. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.

Host, Come, we '11 have you merry. I '11 bring you where
you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you asked
for. 31

Julia, But shall I hear him speak ?

Host, Ay, that you shall.

Julia, That will be music. [Music plays.

Host, Hark, hark 1

Julia. Is he among these ?

Host. Ay ; but peace ! let 's hear 'em.

Song.

Who is Silvia ? what is she^

That all our swains commend her ?

Holy, fair, and wise is she; 40

The heaven such grace did lend her^

That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair, —

For beauty lives with kindness ?
Love doth to her eyes repair^

To help him of his blindness.
And, being help\d, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing.

That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing 50

Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.

Host. How now ! are you sadder than you were before ?
How do you, man ? the music likes you not.
J^u/Za. You mistake ; the musician likes me not

ACT IV. SCENE IL 97

Host Why, my pretty youth ?

Julia, He plays false, father.

Host How ? out of tune on the strings ?*

Julia, Not so j but yet so false that he grieves my very
heart-strings. 60

Host, You have a quick ear.

Julia, Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow
heart.

Host, I perceive you delight not in music !

Julia. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host, Hark, what fine change is in the music !

Julia, Ay, that change is the spite.

Host You would have them always play but one thing?

Julia, I would always have one play but one thing.
But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on 70

Often resort unto this gentlewoman ?

Host, I tell you what Launce, his man, told me ;— he loved
her out of all nick.

Julia, Where is Launce ?

Host Gone to seek his dog, which to-morrow, by his mas-
ter's command, he must carry for a present to his lady.

Julia, Peace, stand aside ; the company parts.

Proteus, Sir Thurio, fear not you ; I will so plead
That you shall say my cunning drift excels.

Thurio. Where meet we ?

Proteus, At Saint Gregory's well.

Thurio. Farewell.

\Exeunt Thurio and Musicians.

Enter Silvia above.

Proteus. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 81

Silvia. I thank you for your music, gentlemen.

Who is that that spake ?

Proteus. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,

You would quickly learn to know him by his vovc^.

gS TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Silvia. Sir Proteus, as I take it.

Proteus, Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

Silvia, What 'syour will ?

Proteus. That I may compass yours.

Silvia. You have your wish; my will is even this, —
That presently you hie you home to bed. 90

Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man !
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceived so many with thy vows ?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me, by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting ihy request
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit.
And by and by intend to chide myself
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. »oo

Proteus. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady.
But she is dead.

Julia, \Aside\ T were false, if I should speak it;
For I am sure she is not buried.

Silvia. Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend
Survives, to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroth'd : and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importiinacy ?

Proteus, I likewise hear that Valentine is dead.

Silvia. And so suppose am I; for in his grave
Assure thyself my love is buried. nc

Proteus. Sweet ladv, let me rake it from the earth.

Silvia. Go to thy lady's grave and call hers thence,
Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine.

Julia. [Aside] He heard not that.

Proteus. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love.
The picture that is hanging in your chamber.
To that 1 1] speak, to that I '11 sigh and weep;

ACT IV, SCENE III, 99

For since the substance of your perfect self

Is else devoted, I am but a shadow, "o

And to your shadow will I make true love.

yulia, \Aside\ If 't were a substance, you would, sure,
deceive it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am.

Silvia. I am very loath to be your idol, sir ;
But since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadows and adore false shapes.
Send to me in the morning and I '11 send it.
And so, good rest.

Proteus. As wretches have overnight

That wait for execution in the morn.

\Exeunt Proteus and Silvia severally.

yulia. Host, will you go? 130

Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep.

yulia. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus?

Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 't is almost
day.

yulia. Not so; but it hath been the longest night
' That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. \Exeunt

Scene III. Tlie Same.

Enter Eglamour.

Eglamour. This is the hour that Madam Silvia
Entreated me to call and know her mind.
There 's some great matter she 'd employ me in. —
Madam, madam I

Enter Silvia above.

Silvia. Who calls?

Eglamour. Your servant and your friend:

One that attends your ladyship's command.

Silvia. Sir Eglamour, a thousAV\d v\vcv^?» ^oo^\wi?txc3W*

lOo TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Eglamour, As many, worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose,

I am thus early come to know what service lo

It is your pleasure to command me in.

Silvia. O Eg] amour, thou art a gentleman —
Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not —
Valiant, wise, remorseful^ well accomplished.
Thou art not ignorant what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine,
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors.
Thyself hast lov'd ; and I have heard thee say
No grief did ever come so near thy heart 20

As when thy lady and thy true love died,
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company.
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief,

And on the justice of my flying hence, 30

To keep me from a most unholy match.
Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I do desire thee, even from a heart
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands.
To bear me company and go with me ;
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.

Eglamour. Madam, I pity much your grievances;
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you, 40

Recking as little what betideth me
As much I wish all good befortune you.
IV/jen will you go?

ACT IV, SCENE IV, ,01

Silvia, This evening coming. -"-V/l/j^^ ^ /dC^

Eglamour, Where shall I meet you? f\J^.L^^

Silvia. ^1 Fri?^*' ^'^\''\^\\ ^^11^

Wher e I intend holy confess ion.

Iglamour, 1 will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow,
gentle lady.

Silvia. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour.

[Exeunt severally.

Scene IV. The Same,

Enter Launce, with his Dog.

Launct, When a man's servant shall play the cur with him,
look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy;
one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his
blind brothers and sisters went to it. I have taught him,
even as one would say precisely, — thus I would teach a dog.
I was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress Silvia
from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber
but he steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg.
O, 't is a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all
companies! I would have, as one should say, one that takes
upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all
things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take a fault
upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hanged
for *t ; sure as I live, he had suffered for 't. You shall judge.
He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gen-
tlemanlike dogs, under the duke's table ; but all the chamber
smelt him. *Out with the dog!' says one. *What cur is
that?' says another. * Whip him out' says the third. *Hang
him up' says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the
smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow
that whips the dogs. * Friend,' quoth I, *you mean to whip
the dog ?' * Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he. * You do him the
moie wrong,' quoth I; *'t was I did the thing you wot <iC

102 TPVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the cham-
[ber. How many masters would do this for his servant?
Nay, I 'II be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he
hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed; I have stood
on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suf-
fered for 't. Thou thinkest not of this now. CNay, I remem-
ber the trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam
Silvia. Did not I bid thee still mark me and do as I do.?
when didst thou see me heave up my leg against a gentle-
woman's farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick? \

Enter Proteus and Julia.

Proteus. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well
And will employ thee in some service presently.

yulia. In what you please; I '11 do what I can.

Proteus,- 1 hope thou wilt. — \To Launce\ How now, you
whoreson peasant!
Where have you been these two days loitering?

Proteus. And what says she to my little jewel?

Launce. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you
currish thanks is good enough for such a present.

Proteus. But she received my dog?

Launce. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him
back again.

Proteus. What, didst thou offer her this from me?

Launce. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by
the hangman boys in the market-place; and then I offered
her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and there-
fore the gift the greater. si

Proteus. Go get thee hence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight.

Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here? [Bxtt Launce.
A slave^ that still an end turns me to shame! —

ACT IV. SCENE IV,

103

Sebastian, I have entertained thee,

Partly that I have need of such a youth

That can with some discretion do my business —

For 't is no trusting to yond foolish lout —

But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour, oc

Which, if my augury deceive me not.

Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth;

Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.

Go presently and take this ring with thee,

Deliver it to Madam Silvia.

She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me.

yulia. It seems you lov*d not her, to leave her token.
She is dead, belike?

Proteus. Not so \ I think she lives.

yulia. Alas!

Proteus. Why dost thou cry, alas!

yulia. I cannot choose yo

But pity her.

Proteus. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her?

yulia. Because methinks that she lov'd you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia.
She dreams on him that has forgot her love ;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
'T is pity love should be so contrary ;
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

Proteus. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal
This letter. That 's her chamber. Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. 80

Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. \^Exit.

yulia. How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd
A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. —
Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?

--» "•

104 ^^^ GENTLEMEN OE VERONA.

Because he loves her, he despiseth me ;

Because I love him, I must pity him.

This ring I gave him when he parted from me, 90

To bind him to remember my good will ;

And now am I, unhappy messenger,

To plead for that which I would not obtain,

To carry that which I would have refus'd.

To praise his faith which I would have dispraised.

I am my master's true-confirmed love,

But cannot be true servant to my master.

Unless I prove false traitor to myself.

Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly

As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. — 100

Enter Silvia, attended.

Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia.

Silvia. What would you with her, if that I be she?

yulia. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.

Silvia. From whom?

yulia. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam.

Silvia. O, he sends you for a picture.

yulia. Ay, madam.

Silvia. Ursula, bring my picture there. — no

Go give your master this; tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget.
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.

yulia. Madam, please you peruse this letter. —
Pardon me, madam, I have unadvised
Delivered you a paper that I should not;
This is the letter to your ladyship.

Silvia. I pray thee, let me look on that again.

yulia. It may not be ; good madam, pardon me.

Silvia. There, hold ! lao

ACT IV. SCJ^NE IV.

105

I will not look upon your master's lines;
I know they are stuff' d with protestations
And full of new-found oaths, which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.

Julia, Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.

Silvia. The more shame for him that he sends it me;
For I have heard him say a thousand times
His Julia gave it him at his departure.
Though his false finger have profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 12a

yulia. She thanks you.

Silvia, What say'st thou?

yulia, I thank you, madam, that you tender her.
Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much.

Silvia. Dost thou know her?

yulia. Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes I do protest
That I have wept a hundred several times.

Silvia. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.

yulia. I think she doth, and that 's her cause of sorrow.

Silvia, Is she not passing fair? 141

yulia. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is.
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass
And threw her sun-expelling mask away.
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks.
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.

Silvia. How tall was she? 150

yulia. About my stature; for at Pentecost,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our .youth got me to play the woman's part.
And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,

lo6 TIVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

As if the garment had been made for me;

Therefore I know she is about my height.

And at that time I made her weep agood,

For I did play a lamentable part.

Madam, 't was Ariadne passioning - i6o

For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight,

Which I so lively acted with my tears

That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,

Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead

If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!

Silvia. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth.
Alas, poor lady, desolate and left!
I weep myself to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse; I giv^e thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her. 170
Farewell. \^Exit Silvia^ with attendants,

yulia. And she shall thank you for 't, if e'er you know
her. —
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful!
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
Here is her picture. Let me see ; I think,
If I had such a tire, this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers!

And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, 180

Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow;
If that be all the difference in his love,
I '11 get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine;
Ay, but her forehead 's low, and mine 's as high.
What should it be that he respects in her
But I can make respective in myself,
If this fond Love were not a blinded god?

ACT IV. SCENE IV.

Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,

For 't is thy rival. O thou senseless form.

Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd !

And, were there sense in his idolatry,

My substance should be statue in tliy stead,

I 'H use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake,

That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow,

I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes.

To make my master out of love with thee!

\Bxit.

ACT K SCENE If. 109

She will not fail, for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time,
So much they spur their expedition.
See where she comes. —

Enter Silvia.

Lady, a happy evening!

Silvia, Amen, amen ! Go on, good Egl amour,
Out at the postern by the abbey-wall.
I fear I am attended by some spies. 10

Eglamour. Fear not : the forest is not three leagues off;
If we recover that, we are sure en^igh. \Exeunt,

Scene II. The Same. The Duke's Palace,
Enter Thurio, Proteus, an^ ]vl\a.

Thurio. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?

Proteus, O, sir, I find her milder than she was;
And yet she takes exceptions at your person.

Thurio. What, that my leg is too long?

Proteus, No; that it is too little.

Thurio. I '11 wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder.

yulia. [Aside] But love will not be spurred to what it
loathes.

Thurio. What says she to my face ?

Proteus, She says it is a fair one.

Thurio, Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black. 10

Proteus. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is.
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.

Julia. \Aside\ 'T is true, such pearls as put out ladies'
eyes ;
For I had rather wink than look on them.

Thurio, How likes she my discourse ?

Proteus, III, when you talk of war.

Thurio, But well, when I discourse of love and peace?

no TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

yulia, \Aside\ But better, indeed, when you hold your
peace.

Thurio, What says she to my valour ?

Proteus. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. ao

yulia. \Aside\ She needs not, when she knows it cow-
ardice.

7'hurio. What says she to my birth ?

Proteus. That you are well derived.

yulia. [Aside] True ; from a gentleman to a fool.

Thurio. Considers she my possessions ? '

Proteus, O, ay ; and pities them.

Thurio. Wherefore ? «

yulia. [Aside] That such an ass should owe them.

Proteus. That they are out by lease.

yulia. Here comes the duke. 30

Enter Duke.

Duke. How now, Sir Proteus ! how now, Thurio I
Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late?

Thurio. Not I.

Proteus. Nor I.

Duke. Saw you my daughter?

Proteus. Neither.

Duke. Why then,
She 's fled unto that peasant Valentine, . \

And Eglamour is in her company. ^ ^,^ ^"^>l/CU>^5 ^ ^■< e

'T is true; for Friar Laurenqe ipet them both,

As he in penance wandered through the forest. ,, --HrT/ » J^
Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she, J ^-""^-"^^

But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it; / 40

Besides, she did intend confession
At Patrick's cell this even, and there she was not
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse.
But mount you presently and meet with me

ACT V, SCENES IIL AND IV. m

Upon the rising of the mountain-foot

That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled.

Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. \Exit

Thurio, Why, this it is to be a peevish girl.
That flies her fortune when it follows her. 50

I '11 after, more to be revenged on Egl amour
Than for the love of reckless Silvia. \Exit.

Proteus, And I will follow, more for Silvia's love
Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. \Exit.

yulia. And I will follow, more to cross that love
Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. \Exit.

Scene III. The Forest.
Enter Outlaws with Silvia.

1 Outlaw, Come, come.

Be patient; we must bring you to our captain.

Silvia, A thousand more mischances than this one
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.

2 Outlaw, Come, bring her away.

I Outlaw. Where is the gentleman that was with her.?

3 Outlaw, Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us.
But Moyses and Valerius follow him.

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood ;

There is our captain. We '11 follow him that 's fled ; 10

The thicket is beset ; he cannot scape.

I Outlaw. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave.
Fear not; he bears an honourable mind.
And will not use a woman lawlessly.

Silvia, O Valentine, this I endure for thee I \^Exeunt

Scene IV. Another Part oj the Forest,

Enter Valentine.

Valentine, How use doth breed a habit in a man !
These shadowy, desert, unfrequented wood's.

r\\

f*!^

112 TfVO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

I better brook than flourishing peopled towns :

Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

And to the nightingale's complaining notes

Tune my distresses and record my woes.

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast.

Leave not the mansion so long tenantless,

Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall

And leave no memory of what it was ! «c

Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;

Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain ! —

What halloing and what stir is this to-day ?

'T is sure, my mates, that make their wills their law,

Have some unhappy passenger in chase.

They love me well ; yet I have much to do

To keep them from uncivil outrages.

Withdraw thee, Valentine; who 's this comes here?

Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia.

Proteus. Madam, this service I have done for you,
Though you respect not aught your servant doth, 20

To hazard life and rescue you from him
That would have forc'd your honour and your love.
Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look ;
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.

Valentine, [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear 1
Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile.

Si/via. O miserable, unhappy that I am !

jProteus. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came ;
But by my coming I have made you happy. 30

Si/via. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy.

yulia, [Aside] And me, when he approacheth to your
presence.

Silvia. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,
J would have been a breakfast to the beast,

ACT V. SCENE IV,

Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.

O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine,

Whose life 's as lender to me as my soul !

And full as much, for more there cannot be,

I do detest false perjur'd Proteus.

Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. ^e

Proteus, What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
Would I not undergo for one calm look !
O, 't is the curse in love, and still approv'd.
When women cannot love where they 're belov'd !

Silvia, When Proteus cannot love where he 's belov'd.
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love.
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
Descended into perjury, to love me.

And that 's far worse than none : better have none
Than plural faith, which is too much by one.
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend !

Proteus, In love

Who respe cts friend 1

Silvia, ' All men but Proteus.

Proteus, Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words
Can no way change you to a milder form,
I '11 woo you like a soldier, at arms' end.
And love you 'gainst the nature of love, — force ye.

Silvia, O heaven !

Proteus, I Ml force thee yield to my desire.

Valentine. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, 6c

Thou friend of an ill fashion !

Proteus. Valentine I

Valentine, Thou common friend, that 's without faith or
love, —
For such is a friend now, — treacherous man I
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but miae e^^e.

114 ^^^ GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say

I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove ine.

Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand

Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus,

I am sorry I must never trust thee more,

The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst,

'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst !

Proteus, My shame and guilt confounds me. —
Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender 't here ; I do as trulv suffer
As e'er I di d commit.

i^alentine. Then I am paid ;

And onc e again I do receive thee honest.
VVho by repentance is not satisfied

Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are plea s'd. &

By penitence the Eternal's wrath 's appeas'd :
And^ that my love niay appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silv ia I give thee.

Julia. O me unhappy! \Swoons.

Proteus, Look to the boy.

Valentiue, Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the mat-
ter? Look up; speak.

Julia. O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a
ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never
done. 90

Proteus. Where is that ring, boy ?

Julia. Here 't is ; this is it.

Proteus. How ! let me see. —
Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.

Julia. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook:
This is the ring you sent to Silvia.

Proteus. But how cam'st thou by this ring? At my depart
J £r^ve this unto Julia.

ACT V. SCENE IV.

yulia. And Julia herself did give it me;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither. .

Proteus. Howl Julia] loo

Julia. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart.
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root!
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush!
Be thou asham*d that I liave took upon me
Such an immodest raiment, if shame live
In a disguise of love.
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds.
Women to change their shapes than men their minds.

Proteus. Than men their minds I 't is true. O heaven!
were m.^l ^ no

But co ns tant, he were perfect. That one error
Fills him with faults, makes him run through all the sins;
Inconstancy falls oif ere it begins.
What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye?

Valentine. Come, come, a hand from either.
Let me be blest to make this happy close;
' T were pity two such friends should be long foes.

Proteus. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever.

Julia. And I mine. 120

Enter Outlaws, with Duke and Thurio.

Outlaws. A prize, a prize, a prize!

Valentine. Forbear, forbear, I say ! it is my lord the duke.—
Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banished Valentine.

Duke. Sir Val e n ti ne !

Thurio. Yonder is Silvia ; and Silvia 's mine.

Valentine. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death;
Come not within the measure of my wrath.
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,

Il6 ^^O GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands :

Take but possession of her with a touch ; 130

I dare thee but to breathe upon iny love.

Thurio. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I.
I hold him but a fool that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not;
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.

Duke, The more d egenerate and base art thou, .
To make sucli means for her as thou hast clone,
Ana leave her on sucn sTignt conditions. —
Now, Dy the honour ol my ancestry,

I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, 140

And think thee worthy of an empress' love.
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe : Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman and well derived ;
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.

Valentine, I thank your grace; the gift hath made me
happy.
I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake.
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. 150

Duke, I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be.

Valentine, These banished men that I have kept withal
Are men endued with worthy qualities.
Forgive them what they have committed here
And let them be recalled from their exile :
They are reformed, civil, full of good.
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.

Duke. Thou hast prevailed; I pardon them and the^;
Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts.
Come, let us go ; we will include all jars r6(

With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.

Valentine. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold

ACT V. SCENE IV. n'

With our discourse to make your grace to smile.
What think you of this page, my lord?

Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him ; he blushes.

Valentine. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy.

Duie. What mean you by that saying?

Valentine. Please you, I 'II tell you as we pass along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned. —
Come, Proteus; 't is your penance but to hear i?

The story of your loves discovered.
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours;
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. \Exeuni

raANCUCa ALB&MO).

NOTES

ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES.

Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Gratntnar (third edition).
A. S., Anglo-Saxon.

A. v., Authorized Version of the Bible (1611).

B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher.
B. J., Ben Jonson.

Camb. ed., " Cambridge edition" of Shakespeare, edited by Clark and Wright

Cf. {con/er\ compare.

Clarke, " Cassell's Illustrated Shakespeare," edited by Charles and Mary Cowden-
Clarke (London, n. d.).

Coll., Collier (second edition).

Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier.

D., Dyce (second edition).

H., Hudson (" Harvard" edition).

Halliwell, J. O. Halliwell (folio ed. of Shakespeare).

Id. {tdem)y the same.

K., Knight (second edition).

Nares, Glossary^ edited by Halliwell and Wright (London, 1859).

Prol., Prologue.

S., Shakespeare.

Schmidt, A. Schmidt*8 Shakespeare- Lexicon (Berlin, 1874).

Sr, Singer.

St., Staunton.

Theo., Theobald.

v., Verplanck,

W., R. Grant White.

Walker, Wm. Sidney Walker's Critical Examination 0/ the Text 0/ Shakespeare
(London, i860).

Warb, Warburton.

Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1879).

Wore, Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition).

The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's Plays will be readily understood; as
T. N. for Twelfth Night, Cor. for Coriolanus, 3 Hen. VI. for The Third Part of King
Henry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to The Passionate Pilgrim ; V. and A . to Venus
and Adonis; L. C. to Lover's Complaint ; and Sonn. to the Sonnets.

When the abbreviation of the name of a play is followed by a reference to Page,
Rolfe's edition of the play is meant.
The numbers of the lines (except for the present play) are those of the " Globe " ed.

NOTES.

« folio (cf, Olh. ]>. 153) has llie foUowinj

122

NOTES.

The Names of all the Actors.

the hvo Gentlemen,

Duke: Father to Siluia.
Valentine, )
Protheus, J
Anthonio: father to Protheus.
Thurio: a foolish riuallto Valentine,
Eglamoure : Agent for Siluia in her
escape.

Host: where lulia lodges.
Out'lawes with Valentine,
Speed: a clownish seruant to Valeft'

tine,
Launce : the like to Protheus,
Panthion : seruant to Antonio,
Julia : beloued of Protheus.
Siluia : beloued of Valentine,
Lucetta : waighting-woman to Julia,

Protheus is tlie old way of spelling Proteus, Steevens quotes Gascoigne,
Princely Pleasures at Kenelworth Castle^ 1 587 : " Protheus appeared, sit-
ting on a dolphyn's back ;" and Barclay, Eclogues: "Like as Protheus
oft chaungeth his nature." Clarke remarks : " To the fickle, unstable,
changeable character thus designated, we have always felt a certain pro-
priety in the poet's assigning the name of Proteus ; a sea-deity, whose
power of changing his shape has become proverbial as a type of change-
ableness."

On the spelling of the name, cf. Anthonio for Antonio ; and on the
pronunciation of///, cf. A. Y, L, p. 179 (note on Goats)^ Much AdOf p. 136
(on JVbthing\ and L, L. L. p. 128 (on Dm mat is Persona:), Malone says
that Lydgate has Thelephus and Anthenor ; and in the old translation of
the Gesta Roinanorum^ 1580, we find Alhalauta for Atalanta,

Panthion occurs in the folio only in the list of "Actors" and in the
stage-directions. In the text (i. 3. i ) it is ^'Panthino " or (i. 3. 76) " Panth-
mOy''^ which is obviously a misprint for " Panthino,''^ In the heading of
i. 3 we also find ^^ Enter Antonio and Panthino,^''

Scene I. — 2. JJome-keeping youth have ever homely wits, Steevens
quotes Milton, Comus^ 748 :

*' It is for homely features to keep home ;
They had their name thence."

8. Shapeless, " The expression is fine, as implying that idleness pre-
vents the giving any form or character to the manners" (Warb.).

18. Beadsman, One who prays in behalf of another; from the A. S.
beady prayer (see Wb.). Cf. Hen, V.iv. i. 315 :

" Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay.
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood."

22. Leander, Malone sees an allusion to the poem of Musseus on Hero
and Leander, translated by Marlowe ; but this was not printed till 1598,
though entered on the Stationers' Registers in 1593. The story was
doubtless familiar to the poet from his schooldays. For other allusions
to it, cf. iii. I. 120 below, Much Ado^ v. 2. 30, A, Y. L. iv. i. 100, and M. N.
D. V. I. 198.

25. For, Changed in the Coll. MS. to "but," and by H. to "and."
D. says : " The old text, if right, must be explained : * Yes, it is certainly
true ; for you are not merely, as he was, over shoes in love, but even over

ACT I. SCEXE /. 123

boots in love, and yet,' tic— for you are corresponding to the former
For he was^

27. Give me not the boots. " A proverbial expression, though now dis-
used, signifying, don't make a laughing-stock of me, don't play upon me.
The Frencn have a phrase, Bailler foin en come, which Cotgrave thus
interprets: *To give one the boots; to sell him a bargain'" (Theo.).
Steevens is doubtful whether the expression took its origin from a War-
wickshire sport, in which the victim was " laid on a bench and slapped
on the breech with a pair of boots," or from the ancient engine of torture
known as the boots.

34. However. However it may turn out, in any case.

37. By your circumstance. " 0>r«;«jA///r^ here means conduct ; in the
preceding line, circumstantial deduction " (Malone).

42. As in the sweetest bud, etc Malone quotes Sonn. 70. 7: "For
canker vice the sweetest buds doth love." On rrt;/i^^/'= canker-worm,
cf.M.MD.p.iSO.

52. Fond. Doting. When the word is used in this sense, it often
carries with it the more common old meaning of foolish. Cf. iv. 4. 189
below ; and see M. N. D. p. 163, note on Fond pageant.

53. Road. Port, haven ; as in ii. 4. 185 below.

57. To Milan. Changed in the 2d folio and some modern eds. to "At
Milan ;" but the meaning is by letters to Milan. Malone conjectured ** To
Milan ! — let me hear," etc.

61. Bechance. Cf. R. of L. 976 : " Let there bechance him pitiful mis-
chances," etc.

65. / leave myself. The folios have "love" for leave ; corrected by
Pope.

71. Embark for Milan. According to Elze, Milan and Verona were
actually connected by canals in the i6th century.

73. Sheep. For the play on ship and sheep, which seem to have
been pronounced nearly alike, cf C. of E. iv. i. 93 and Z. Z. Z. ii. i.
219.

83. // shall go hard but I 'II, etc. Cf M. of V. iii. i. 75 : " It shall go
hard but I will better the instruction," etc.

95. iMced mutton, Schmidt says : " According to glossarists and com-
mentators, a cant term for a prostitute ; but probably only = woman's
flesh, a petticoat, a smock." Cotgrave defines laced mutton by "une
garse, putain, fille de joye ;" and the quotations given by Steevens, Ma-
lone, and others show plainly enough that it commonly meant a loose
woman rather than a " straight-laced " one. In the present passage, how-
ever, it may have the sense that Schmidt gives it ; or, as W. better puts
it, "a fine piece of woman's flesh." St., who takes it in the ordinary
sense, says that "the only palliation for Speed's application of it is that
in reality it was not the lady, but her waiting-maid, to whom he gave the
letter."

99. You were best. It would be best for you. Cf. i. 3. 24 below. Gr.
230, 352.

loi. Astray. Theo. his "a stray." The pointing is that of the folios.
The Camb. ed. gives : *' Nay : in that you are astray, 't were best»" etc.

124

NOTES,

105. Pinfold, Cf. Lear^ ii. 2. 9 : " in Lipsbury pinfold ;" and Milton,
CotnuSf 7 : ** Confin'd and pester'd in this pinfold here."

1 10. That ^s noddy. For the quibble, Reed compares Wifs Private
Wfalthy i6i2: "give her a nod, but follow her not, lest you prove a
noddy." It does not seem necessary to follow the old eds. in printing
" I " for ay (as they uniformly do), in order to make the joke obvious.

121. Beshrew me, A mild form of imprecation, often used, as here,
merely to emphasize an assertion. Cf. ii. 4. 73 below.

133. In telling your mind. That is, when you tell her your mind, or
make suit to her. The 2d folio changes your to " her," and the Coll.
MS. to "you her."

135. Whaty said she nothing? The Camb. ed. reads " What said she ?
nothing?"

137. Testerned me. Given me a /<fj/<?r, Afj/ifrw, or sixpence. Qi.2Hen,

IV. iii. 2. 296 : " there 's a tester for you," etc. The ist fglio misprints
" cestern'd ;" corrected in the 2d folio.

140. Wrack. The only spelling in the early eds. Cf. the rhymes in

V. and A. 558, R. of L. 841, 965, Sonn. 126. 5, and Macb. v. 5. 51.

142. Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. That is, to be hanged.
Cf. Temp. i. i. 31 fol. and Id. v. i. 217.

Clarke says : " It is >yorthy of remark that Speed's flippancy exceeds
the licensed pertness of a jester, and degenerates into impertinence when
speaking with Proteus ; thus subtly conveying the dramatist's intention
in the character itself. Had Proteus not been the mean, unworthy man
he is, as gentleman and lover. Speed had not dared to twit him so broadly
with his niggardly and reluctant recompense, or to speak in such free
terms of the lady Proteus addresses."

Scene II. — 5. Parle. Parley, talk ; elsewhere only (literally or fig.
uratively) in the military sense of a parley, or conference with regard to
terms of truce or peace. Cf. IC. John, ii. i. 205, 226, Hen. V, iii. 3. 2, etc

7. Please yon repeat their navies ^ etc. Ci. M. of V. i. 2. 39 : "I pray
thee, overname them ; and as thou namest them, I will describe them,
etc. See also p. 37 above.

19. Censure. Pass judgment ; not elsewhere followed by on. For the
transitive use in this sense, cf. Much Adoy p. 139, or Lear^ p. 225. Han-
mer changes thtts to " pass." The Coll. MS. has

'*That I, unworthy body, as I can,
Should censure thus a loving gentleman ;"

but censure thus on is confirmed by the on in the next speech.

30. Fire. Pope reads " The fire ;" and Johnson " that is " for that *s ;
but f re is sometimes a dissyllable. See Gr. 480.

41. Broker, Go-between. Cf. K. John^ ii. i. 582: "This bawd, this
broker," etc. See also Ham. p. 191.

50. Overlook' d. Looked over, perused; as in M. N. D. ii. 2. 121 :

"And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's stones written in love's richest book."

See also Leary v. i. 50, Hen. V. ii. 4. 90, etc.

ACT L SCENE 12.

125

53. What fool is she* The folios, except the 4th, print " what ' foole,"
and some modem eds. give ** what a fool ;" but the article was sometimes
omitted in such cases. Cf. J, C, i. 3. 42 : " Cassius, what night is this I"
For other examples, see Gr. 86.

62. Angerly, Cf. K, John^ iv. i. 82 and Macb, iii. 5. i. See also Gr.

447-

68. Stomach* There is a play upon the senses of wrath (see Lear^

p. 254) and hunger; also upon visat (pronounced mate) and maid* Cf.

the quibble on baits and beats in W, T'. ii. 3. 92, etc.

76, 77. The play on the two senses of lie is obvious.

81. Set* That is, set to music. Julia plays upon the word in her reply.

83, Light d* love* For another allusion to this popular old tune, see
Much AdOf iii. 4. 44 : " Clap 's into * Light o' love ;' that goes without a
burden."

94. Descant. Malone explains this as " variations," and Schmidt as
" treble ;" but W. shows that the word means the adding of other parts
to the " ground " or theme. He quotes ?h\\\\^Sf A^e7u IVorld of IVords :
"Descant (in Musick) signifies the Art of Composing in several parts,"
etc. Florio defines Contraptinto as "a counterpoint; also a descant in
musicke or singing." Cf. the figurative use of the word in Rich, III, iii.
7. 49 : " For on that ground I '11 make a holy descant."

95. Mean, Tenor. Cf. W* T. iv. 3. 46 : " they are most of them
means and bases ;" and L* L. /.. v. 2. 328 :

'•nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly," etc.

97. I bid the base. Alluding to the game of prison-base, in which the
fastest runner wins. Cf. V. and A. 303 : *' To bid the wind a base he
now prepares " (that is, challenges the wind to run a race) ; and Cymb,
V. 3. 20 :

"lads more like to nm
The country base than to commit such slaughter."

See also Spenser, Shep. Kal. Oct. 5 : " In rymes, in ridles, and in byd-
ding base."

99. Coil. Ado, " fuss." Cf. C. of E. iii. i. 48 : '• What a coil is there,
Dromio ?" See also Much Ado, p. 146, or M. N. D. p. 168.

Protestation is metrically five syllables. Gr. 479.

102. Best pleas' d. The Coll. MS. has "pleas'd better."

104. Nay, would /, etc. St. has little doubt that this line is part of
Lucetta's side speech. It is inconsistent, he says, that Julia should reply
to what is spoken aside, and the reply is moreover without meaning in
her mouth. If it belongs to Julia, the meaning evidently must be that
she would be glad to get another such letter. She has overheard what
Lucetta has said, and the repetition of anger' d \s ironical,

108. Several. Separate. Cf. Tetnp. p. 131.

115. Throughly. Used by S. interchangeably with thoroughly. See
M. of. V* p. 144, note on Throughfares.

121. Fearful-hanging. The hyphen was first inserted by Delius.

124. Forlorn* Accented on the first syllable (as in v. 4. 12 below) be-
cause preceding a noun so accented. Cf. Sonn* 33. 7 : " Axxd C't<^'CBw ^icft.

126 NOTES.

forlorn world his visage hide." On the other hand, see /(*. of L, 1500 :
" And whom she finds forlorn she doth lament ;" and L. L, L, v. 2. 805 :
" To some forlorn and naked hermitage." For many similar examples,
see Schmidt, p. 1413 fol.

126. Stth. Since. Cf. Cor. p. 236 (note on Sithence\ or Gr. 132.

^34. Respect them. Care about them. Cf. Rich. J/J. i. 3. 296 :

" Gloster. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham ?
Bucking flam. Nothing that i respect, my giacious lord."

136. For catching cold. That is, for fear of catching cold. Cf. Sonn.
52.4:

*' So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure ; *

and 2 Hen. VI. iv. i. 74 :

" Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
For swallowing the treasure of the realm."

137. A month'' s mind. An earnest wish or longing. The expression
is said to have originated in the periodical celebration of mass for the
souls of the dead. Grey quotes Strype, Memorials : *' Was the month's
mind of Sir William Laxton, who died the last month, his hearse burn-
ing with wax, and the morrow-mass celebrated," etc. Puttenham, in his
Ar/e o/PoesiCy says that poetical lamentations were chiefly used "at the
burials of the dead, also at month's minds, and longer times." Schmidt
explains thq phrase here as ="a woman's longing." Steevens suggests
" monthes " for the measure, and W. reads " moneth's." The word is ev-
idently dissyllabic, as Schmidt makes it in 3 //en, VI. ii. 5.38: "So min-
utes, hours, days, months, and years."

139. IVink. Shut my eyes ; as often. Cf. Cymb. p. 182.

Scene III.— i. S<jd. Serious. Cf. Aftich Ado, i. i. 185 : " Speak you
this with a sad brow .^" and see our ed. p. 121.

6. Of slender reputation. "That is, who are thought slightly of, are of
little consequence " (Steevens).

9. Some to disccwer islands far away. " In Shakesi:)eare's time, voyages
for the discovery of the islands of America were much in vogue ; and we
find, in the journals of the travellers of that time, that the sons of noble-
men, and of others of the best families in England, went very frequently
on these adventures" (Warb.). Gifford, in his Memoirs of Ben Jonson^
prefixed to his edition of that dramatist, says : "The long reign of Eliza-
beth, though sufficiently agitated to keep the mind alert, was vet a season
of comparative stability and peace. The nobility, who had been nursed
in domestic turbulence, for which there was now no place, and the more
active spirits among the gentry, for whom entertainment could no longer
be found in feudal grandeur and hospitality, took advantage of the diver-
sity of employment hap])ily opened, and spread themselves in every di-
rection. They put forth, in the language of Shakspere,

ACT /. SCENE IIL

* Some, to the wars, to try their fortunes there ;
Some, to discover islands far away;
Some, to the studious universities ;'

127

and the effect of these various pursuits was speedily discernible. The
feelings narrowed and embittered in household feuds, expanded and puri-
fied themselves in distant warfare, and a high sense of honour and gen-
erosity, and chivalrous valour, ran with electric speed from bosom to
bosom, on the return of the first adventurers in the Flemish campaigns ;
while the wonderful reports of discoveries, by the intrepid mariners who
opened the route since so successfully pursued, faithfully committed to
writing, and acting at once upon the cupidity and curiosity of the times,
produced an inconceivable effect in diffusing a thirst for novelties among
a people who, no longer driven in hostile array to destroy one another,
and combat for interests in which they took little concern, had leisure for
looking around them, and consulting their own amusement."

13. Jmportuue. Accented by S. on the second syllable. Cf. Ham,
p. 190. Gr. 490.

15. Im/>eaihmenf. Reproach, discredit. Cf. the verb in M. N, £>, ii. i.
214 : " You do impeach your modesty too much," etc.

24. IVere I best. Would it be best for me. See on i. i. 99 above.

27. The emperor, " S. has been guilty of no mistake in placing the
emperor's court at Milan. Several of the first German emperors held
their courts there occasionally, it being at that time their immediate
property, and the chief town of their Italian dominions. Some of them
were crowned kings of Italy at Milan before they received the imperial
crown at Rome. Nor has the poet fallen into any contradiction by giving
a duke to Milan at the same time that the emperor held his court there.
The first dukes of that and all the other great cities in Italy were not
sovereign princes, as they afterwards became, but were merely governors,
or viceroys, under the emperors, and removable at their pleasure " (Stee-
pens).

30. There shall he practise tilts and tountaments, " St. Palaye, in his
Memoirs of Chivalry^ says that, in their private castles, the gentlemen
practised the exercises which would prepare them for the public tourna-
ments. This refers to the period which api)ears to have terminated some
half-century before the tin»e of Elizabeth, when real warfare was con-
ducted with express reference to the laws of knighthood ; and the tour-
ney, with all its magnificent array, — its minstrels, its heralds, and its
damosels in lofty towers, — had its hard blows, its wounds, and some-
times its deaths. There were the 'Jonstes ^ outrance,' or the 'Joustes
mortelles et i champ,' of Froissart. But the 'tournaments' that Shak-
spere sends Proteus to 'practise' were the * Joustes of Peace,' the * Joustes
^ plaisance,' the tournaments of gay pennons and pointless lances. They
had all the gorgeousness of the old knightly encounters, but they appear
to have been regarded only as courtly pastimes, and not as serious prep-
arations for * a well-foughten field.' One or two instances from the an-
nals of these times will at least amuse our readers, if they do not quite
satisfy them that these combats were as harmless to the combatants as the
fierce encounters between other less noble actors — the heroes of the stage.

128 NOTES.

"On Whitsun Monday, 1581, a most magnificent tournament was held
in the Tilt-yard at Westminster, in honour of the Dauphin, and other
noblemen and gentlemen of France, who had arrived as commissioners
to the queen. Holinshed describes the proceedings respecting this
* Triumph' at great length. A magnificent gallery was erected tor the
queen and her court, which was called by the combatants the fortress of
perfect beauty ; *and not without cause, forasmuch as her highness would
be there included.' Four gentlemen — the Earl of Arundel, the Lord
Windsor, Mr. Philip Sidney, and Mr. Fulke Greville — calling themselves
the foster-children of Desire, laid claim to this fortress, and vowed to
withstand all who should dare to oppose them. Their challenge being
accepted by certain gentlemen of the court, they proceeded (in gorgeous
apparel, and attended by squires and attendants richly dressed) forthwith
to the tilt, and on the following day to the tourney, where they behaved
nobly and bravely, but, at length, submitted to the queen, acknowledging
that they ought not to have accompanied Desire by Violence, and con-
cluding a long speech, full of the compliments of the day, by declaring
themselves thenceforth slaves to the * Fortress of Perfect Beautie.' These
*Courtlie triumphes' were arranged and conducted in the most costly
manner. The queen's gallery was painted in imitation of stone and cov-
ered with ivy and garlands of flowers ; cannons were fired with perfumed
powder ; the dresses of the knights and courtiers were of the richest
stuffs, and covered with precious stones ; and moving mounts, costly
chariots, and many other devices were introduced to gi\e effect to the
scene.

"In the reign of Elizabeth there were annual exercises of arms, which
were first commenced by Sir Henry Lee. This worthy knight made a
vow to appear armed in the Tilt-yard at Westminster on the 27th No-
vember (the anniversary of the queen's accession) in every year, until
disabled by age, where he offered to tilt with all comers, in honour of
Her Majesty's accession. He continued the queen's champion until the
thirty-third year of her reign, when, having arrived at the sixtieth year of
his age, he resigned in favour of George, Earl of Cumberland, who was
invested in the office with much form and solemnity in 1590. It was on
the 27th November in that year, that Sir Henry Lee, having performed
his devoirs in the lists lor the last time, and with much applause, accom-
panied by the Earl of Cumberland, presented himself before the queen,
who was seated in her gallery overlooking the lists, and, kneeling on one
knee, humbly besought Her Majesty to accept the Earl of Cumberland
for her knight, to continue the yearly exercises which he was compelled,
from infirmities of age, himself to relinquish. The queen graciously ac-
cepting the offer, the old knight presented his armour at Her Majesty's
feet, and then assisting in fastening the armour of the earl, he mounted
^im on his horse. This ceremony being performed, he put upon his own
person a side coat of 'black velvet pointed under the arm, and covered
his head (in lieu of a helmet) with a buttoned cap of the country fashion.'
Then, whilst music was heard proceeding from a magnificent temple
which had been erected for the occasion, he presented to the queen,
through the hands of three beautiful maidens, a veil curiously wrought,

ACT //. SCENE L

129

and richly adorned, and other gifts of great magnificence, and declared
that, although his youth and strength had decayed, his duty, faith, and
love remained perfect as ever ; his hands, instead of wielding the lance,
should now be held up in prayer for Her Majesty's welfare ; and he
trusted she would allow him to l:)e her Beadsman, now that he had ceased
to incur knightly perils in her service. But the queen complimented him
upon his gallantry, and desired that he would attend the future annual
jousts, and direct the knights in their proceedings ; for indeed his virtue
and valour in arms were declared by all to be deserving of command. In
the course of the good old knight's career of * virtue and valour in arms,*
he was joined by many companions, anxious to distinguish themselves in
all courtly and chivalrous exercises. One duke, nineteen earls, twenty-
seven barons, four knights of the garter, and above one hundred and fifty
other knights and esquires, are stated to have taken part in these annual
feats of arms.

" If Shakspere had not looked upon these * Annual Exercises of Arms,'
when he thought of the tournaments ' in the emjjeror's court,' he had prob-
ably been admitted to the Tilt-yard at Kenil worth, on some occasion of
magnificent display by the proud Leicester" (K.).

44. And — in good time 1 And here he comes most opportunely! "/«
good time was the old expression when something happened which suited
the thing in hand, as the French ^2i\\h propos " (Johnson). Cf. Rich, III,
ii. 1. 45, iii, I. 24, 95, iii. 4. 22, etc.

Break with him. Broach the matter to him. See Much Ado^ p. 125.
Cf. iii. I. 59 below.

48. Applaud. Approve ; as in v. 4. 140 below.

64. Muse, Wonder. Cf. K. Johu^ iii. 1.317 : "I muse your majesty
doth seem so cold ;" Cor, iii. 2. 7 :

*'I mitse my inothei
Does not approve me further," etc.

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